And What of Today? a modern LoTR
by beyond-the-wit-of-man
Summary: The story of the Lord of the Rings set in the modern world, as told through the thoughts and journals of a few of the main characters. rated T for safety
1. prologue

**A/N Well, here we are, this is my translation of the story of the Lord of the rings into a modern setting, as told through the journals of a few of the main characters. **_**Constructive **_**criticism is appreciated. All flames will be used to burn the pretty long hair off the heads of Mary-Sues.**

**Disclaimer: Ha! Me own LoTR? I'm flattered, really, I am.**

_I warn you, if you bore me, I shall take my revenge._

_-J.R.R. Tolkien_

Prologue

J.R.R Tolkien was a genius. There was never any doubt of that. He was a genius, and a good man. It's really too bad that it all went so wrong. You see, the work of a genius, though it might entertain most, inspire greatness in some, and provoke the insight of others, it can also be very, very dangerous in the hands of a madman.

The boy's name was Malachi Sarn, and he had grown up rich, privileged, and intelligent. Malachi had always seemed destined for greatness, with his brains, talent, and love for order. His only weakness, in the opinion of some, was his love of fantasy. It was against his character, his obsession with stories of magic and other worlds, but nonetheless part of him, and despite it, he climbed up the many ladders of life, excelling in school, in social circles, and, after founding Sarn inc. at the mere age of twenty one, in business too.

He never forgot fantasy though. It was his solace, those worlds where power was held in wands, crystals, crowns, and rings. It was the Power of these things that ensnared him. He had worked so hard to obtain his domination, but it was never enough, never omnipotent, and here, in these black and white pages, there were objects that kept power, magnified it, created it even. The idea filled him, and inebriated with a lust for control, he set out to create his own objects to hold his rule, and his genius, his twisted brilliance.

Sarn had always loved the thought of a ring that held power, so small, so elegant, and yet perfect. He settled on this idea, and constructed his own set of rings, each of which held what he needed to, as clichéd as it sounded, even to his own mind, rule the world. He had spent years writing a code, a program which, when he gave the word, would give him complete control over any computer it might happen to have access to. All he needed was to have small chip, which he could access remotely come within three meters of a computer, and he would be in charge. There were nineteen such chips which he constructed, and planted one each in nineteen finely crafted rings. These rings, he then, with great care and subtlety, and over many years, managed to give as gifts to those he esteemed as the most powerful in the world, the leaders of what he deemed to be the nineteen country's with the most control of events on earth.

He then formed a twentieth ring, gold, and unadorned, save the finely engraved markings, both inside and out which read: _one ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all, and the darkness bind them._

Sarn had nearly completed his objective. He had been about to initiate the command sequence, the code to which was concealed inside the ring, when he fell. Intelligence agencies around the world had been keeping watch on him, as they did anyone with the kind of money or influence that Sarn did, and two had discovered the plot. Both the CIA and MI6 had found him out at the last moment. They sent in a team, two men, one from each agency, to infiltrate the Sarn Tower in Hong Kong. They made it, almost to late, but they made it notwithstanding. Isul Durgon, the MI6 operative tore the ring from the massive computer at Sarn Tower moments before Sarn could press the small, red Y key that would have sent the entire planet into the hands of a madman.

Isul Durgon could have ended things there. But he did not, the promise of the ring's power was too great, and, against the pleas of Ron Del, the CIA's agent, he kept the ring, and disappeared from all the files.

But the ring would not stay with one master. The heavy, smog filled blanket of night smothered the city where Isul Durgon was hiding as, on a midnight in November, a recently released convict crept his way along the dirty sidewalks, past overturned bins, and mumbling drunks who were no longer coherent after the evening's indulgences. He was looking for one who might still have some money on him, a bit of cash that hadn't been squandered on cheap alcohol- not yet anyway. But his luck was poor, and he was about to make his way back to his apartment, he could not call it his home, when he saw a dark figure striding past the opening to the alley, and caught a glint of gold on the man's finger, the metal catching the light of a flickering streetlamp.

The man with the gold ring died quickly. A simple knife piercing the lungs, the blade tilted sideways to slip more easily between the ribs, timed so the man had just exhaled, creating a vacuum in his chest as he sucked in his final gasp.

The convict took the ring, and wallet he found in the man's coat pocket. It was that quick, that clean, that simple, the passage of the Ring of Power from Isul Durgon to that convict named Smeal.

Smeal kept the Ring for many years, never knowing of its true nature. He might have kept it to the end of his days. It might have disappeared with his death, had it not been for a foolish bet he made against a young American soldier. He lost the bet, and with it the ring, which for a while at least, would belong to one William Baggs, known to his friends, as Billy.


	2. taste the strawberries

**A/N: Wow, you actually like my story enough to read the second chapter? You have no idea how happy this makes me! Cyber chocolate chip cookies for you!**

**I will warn you right here, in my story, Sam is a girl, Samantha. No! Canonists don't leave yet! Please? Also, this was initially written off the odd adrenaline high that comes only from a seriously intense several hours of martial arts training, so pleas forgive me the oddities of the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Trust me, if I had written LoTR, I would be out there writing another book for you all, instead of this excellent substitute, which we call FanFic.**

_Never take life seriously, nobody gets out alive anyways._

_ -Anonymous_

**Taste the Strawberries**

Sam's Journal, Entry One

I don't know why I'm starting this journal. I guess it just seems like the thing to do. It sounds as though Fred and I are going to have some sort of adventure, and so, just in case we don't make it, maybe someone will find this little book of my scribblings, and they'll find a good story in it. I do so love stories. I only hope this one ends: "and they all lived happily ever after." So, as one of my favorite characters might say-

Hobey ho, off we go!

Once upon a time, there was a girl: me, Samantha Gages. At least, when I woke up this morning, I was Samantha Gages, I'm not so sure anymore. Everything has been so thoroughly turned upside down I can't be sure that I can even trust that.

Today was meant to be a day of fun. It was old Billy Baggs' Birthday today, and my old dad and I were invited, along with half the town, to the party. Not that half the town is very much. I have lived all my life just outside the small New England village of Orwell, which has just over a thousand people living in it. Anyways, I was psyched. Billy, although maybe a little eclectic, does know how to throw a party. And Fred would be there. Fred, Billy's cousin, has been my friend for as long as I can remember. He was adopted by Billy after his parents died when he was no more than two years old. As Billy's gardener, my dad took me with him to Baggs Manor a lot when I was little, and I would play with Fred in the gardens, or the surrounding woods. Fred and I have never been more than friends, at least, not in the romantic sense, more like sister and brother, but without the constant fighting.

Still, romance or no, I couldn't wait to see him. He went to a small private school nearby, while I went to the public school, so I hadn't had a conversation with him longer than a few words all week.

When we arrived at the Manor after a short, but painful due to the country music dad insisted on playing, ride, I hopped out of the car onto the unpaved drive of Baggs manor. The stretch of gravel was already lined with the cars, trucks and bikes of the other arrivals, and a fairly constant stream of guests was flowing like an unusually loud, raucous stream through the gates.

Leaving our gifts on an already groaning table, I set off to find Fred, and soon located him dancing to the sound of some local band. I giggled slightly at the sight. Fred never was a very good dancer, but at least he tried. I, on the other hand, decided not to embarrass with an attempt at gracefulness, and instead snatched a glass of punch from a nearby table and settled down to watch.

After a few minutes, Fred spotted me and laughingly strode over.

"Care to dance, Mademoiselle?" he asked with mock formality.

"Are you sure you want to be seen dancing with someone as uncoordinated as me?"

He cocked an eyebrow and replied, "I'll bet you can at least show me up as far as

dancing goes. Tell me seriously, do I look like an electrocuted chicken when I dance?"

"Who told you that one?" I asked, my curiosity aroused.

"Our dear friend Merry." He grinned ruefully, "Is it true?"

"Well, not to put too fine a point on it…"

He groaned in a comically stricken way "And here I though I could rely on you for encouragement Sam!" he exclaimed.

"Don't worry," I assured him, "I don't mind being friends with an electrocuted chicken."

He smiled wryly and was about to reply, when there was a sudden _Weeeeeeeee BANG! _And the night sky above us exploded into the million shards of light that are a really, really big firework.

"Merry and Pete" we both said at once. There wasn't a single doubt in either of our minds that if anyone here was setting off fireworks an hour before they were scheduled to start, it would be our ever responsible friends Merrick and Peter.

Sure enough, a few moments later, we saw the two boys being dragged off by Fred's uncle Faldang, no doubt to be lectured until his words melted their already singed eyebrows off.

Fred chuckled, shaking his head, and went off to get a glass of punch for himself. Glad that he was no longer trying to convince me to dance, I shrugged off the light jacket I had been wearing, and closed my eyes, listening to chatter and music around me. Fred rejoined me, and we sat in companionable silence for a while until dinner was announced.

We seated ourselves the one of the long tables that had been heaped with enough food to feed three times the number of guests present. There were cries of "_Speech, speech!"_ and I joined in, until Billy finally stood and cleared his throat. The crown quieted as he began, "My dear friends, family, and uninvited party crashers!" laughter, jovial from most, but with a few nervous titters here and there, "Today is my eighty first birthday!" cheers, "I have called you here for a reason, and not just to fill your already more than ample stomachs!" silence, no one quite knew what to say, "Although eighty one years is far to short a time to live among such wonderful people as yourselves," cheers again, this was better, he was now complementing them, "I must tell you that this is goodbye. I'm leaving soon." Murmuring in the crowd, "Yes, leaving for a good, long time, perhaps forever I think. But that is as may be. For now, please enjoy yourselves and eat, drink, and celebrate as much as you jolly well like!" The crowd cheered once more, then dug into the platters placed in front of them.

The music was throbbing, the chatter was loud, the gossip was as thick as the rich stew and creamy puddings that seemed to multiply even as the guests ate themselves sick, the fireworks exploded overhead on brilliant, sparkling canopies, the glittering sparks not even having time to fall and fade before the next eruption of twinkling, glimmering light, and laughter hung over the crowd in a constantly, rippling sheet. No one notice that the host of the party had disappeared.

It was after midnight when the party broke up. I had told dad to leave earlier, when I had seen him yawning and nearly asleep in his chair, assuring him that I would walk home. It was, after all, barely five minutes from Baggs Manor to our house. He had agreed readily, and left taking time only to bid Billy goodnight.

I was walking slowly down the dirt road, content with the world in general, when I remembered that I had left my jacket at the party. I quickly jogged back up to the manor. It was incredible how quickly everyone had left. The field that had been crowded and clamorous only half an hour ago was now darkly silent, strewn with empty cups and food scraps. I found the table I had left the jacket at and grabbed it, throwing it over one shoulder I turned back towards the gate. It was at that moment that I became aware of raised voiced off to my left. There was someone yelling inside Baggs Manor! Unable to help myself, I crept over to an open window and crouched beneath the sill. What I heard then, would change everything.

The voice that had been yelling was Fred's; the one on the receiving end of the tirade was his uncle Faldang.

"Take it!" I head Fred's voice shrill and scared, "You must take it!"

_What? Faldang take something? _I knew Faldang was a bit odd, there were rumors that he had been part of the CIA when he was younger, and he had been in some war, although I could never remember which one. I had always thought the experience might have turned him funny, and had never completely trusted the man. _What is he doing? _I thought, _Is Freddy in trouble? _Freddy, my childhood nickname for Fred. I'd stopped calling him it in third grade, but sometimes moments of stress brought the old name back.

"I cannot take the ring!" I heard the deep boom of Faldang's slightly hoarse voice reverberate around the room.

_Ring?_

He continued more quietly. "Through me, it would be far more dangerous than you can imagine."

"But then what can we do?" Fred's voice was now less shrill, but more timid.

"I have some friends in the CIA, the ring may be safe with them for now. You must take the ring to them."

"I…?"

"Yes, you."

At this point I couldn't help myself. I let out a sharp gasp. Faldang was sending Fred to the CIA carrying some ring for them? Without helping him? That was too much.

Suddenly, I became aware of how silent it had become inside the room.

Had they heard my gasp? Oh gods, I so shouldn't be here! I had to get away!

_Bang!_

Something crashed into the side of my head, I felt myself being lifted up and then slammed down onto a table.

"Samantha Gages, were you eavesdropping?" roared Faldang.

I was so muddled from the blow to my head and the sudden light that my answer was more than a little garbled.

"N-no s-sir, I wasn't dropping no, I mean dropping any, I-I mean no, sir, no eaves were dropped sir, this story of Baggs Manor doesn't have eaves to drop sir, if you take my meaning."

I glanced up at Fred to see him shaking his head slowly, a small half smile on his face.

"W-what I mean, sir," I tried again, " is I came back to get my coat, and I heard raised voices, and, well sir, I couldn't help myself could I? I swear though, I didn't hear anything important sir."

"What did you hear then?" Faldang asked.

"Not much sir, just, just something about a ring, and the CIA, and Freddy, I mean Fred here having to take this ring somewhere. Oh, where is Billy? I'm so sorry! I didn't mean any harm!

"No, I'm sure you didn't. But harm might have been done nonetheless. And Billy has left. Just as he said he would."

"Left…?"

"Yes, left. "

"Oh, no, Oh no, what will Dad say? Please sir, don't call the cops on me, I didn't mean anything by it!"

"No, I won't call the cops, most certainly not. I do believe I can think of a better use for you." As he said this last, I thought I could see a glint of something like satisfaction in his face, but I hadn't the time to dwell on it, for at that moment he began to tell me the oddest true tale I had ever heard.

As he spoke, I could see that Faldang was in a hurry, he appeared to leave parts of the tale out, and embellished little on what he did tell.

"And so," He finished, "the safest thing to do is to take the Ring somewhere that Sarn will never be able to reach it."

I nodded slowly, then frowned. "But can't we just destroy it?"

"I wish it were that simple." He said gravely, "unfortunately, no. It is waterproof, heatproof, nearly impossible to smash or bend, and even were we to destroy it by any of these means, there is one other copy of the program. When Isul Durgon stole the Ring, it had already downloaded the code into the computer of Sarn Tower. Sarn cannot access it without the Ring, at least not now, but as long as it exists, the danger of the code does too. The only way to destroy them both completely is to take the Ring to a very secret the mountains of North Eastern Japan, far form people. Among these mountains is the largest deposit of magnetic ore in the world. It has never been mined and has long been forgotten by most people. It is my belief that, if the Ring were to be tossed into the crater on top of Mt. Jishaku, the peak with the highest concentration of ore, the magnetism would be able to penetrate the magnetic shields around the ring which prevent the destruction of the data by any magnetic means which we could find without going to Jishaku."

"But won't the code still be in the Sarn Tower computer?" asked Fred, a small frown creasing his forehead.

"No," an odd gleeful smile twitched the corner of Faldang's mouth, "There is a small transmitter inside the ring which will send a signal to destroy any copies of the Ring's data if it is activated. It will only be activated however, if the code inside the Ring is destroyed without physical harm to the Ring itself. As this can only be obtained by tossing the ring into Jishaku, Sarn must have been sure of the program's safety."

"But why the transmitter in the first place? Why would he want to destroy his life's work?" the furrow in Fred's forehead deepened as he spoke.

"In case someone else got a hold of a copy of the program I suppose." Faldang shrugged. "However that is not important, we do not seek to destroy the Ring, not yet, at least. All you need to concern yourselves with is its safe passage to my friends at the CIA."

"Wait," I had caught the plural, "_ourselves_?"

"Yes, yes, what use did you think I had thought of for you? You will go with Fred, and help him on his journey." Faldang stated in a tone that gave no room for argument. Not that I was about to object. No _way_ was Fred going on some cool adventure and leaving me behind.

"When do we leave?" I asked, trying and failing not to grin at the thought of an adventure, however serious the situation. This, I decided, was my chance to have a story worth telling.

"As soon as is possible." Faldang nodded at Fred, "You two had better go pack."

"But where are we to go?" Fred asked, a nervous, but determined look set on his features.

"Find the Dancing Horse Inn just outside New York City," Faldang scribbled an address on a piece of paper and handed it to Fred. "I'll send an old… friend to meet you there." I didn't completely trust the tone in Faldang's voice as he said the word 'friend', but Fred didn't seem to notice.

"Right." He nodded, "I'll pack, Sam, we'll stop by your house so that you can grab your stuff." He looked inquiringly up at Faldang. "Anything else?"

"No." Faldang shook his head, "I'll drive you as far as Burlington, You can get a bus ride to New York from there."

Within fifteen minutes, Fred was packed. We stopped by my house quickly, and I

tossed a few necessities into a bag, leaving a quick note for dad, and content with Faldang's promise to fill him in fully later, I hopped back into the car.

The ride was quick and silent, all of us too tense to chat much. Faldang dropped us at first greyhound stop we came to, handing Fred two tickets and a credit card to be used for food, lodgings, and anything else we needed. Lastly, he handed me a container of strawberries. I shot him and inquisitive glance at this but he ignored it, apparently there were more important things on his mind than his reason for randomly handing me strawberries.

"Good luck." He nodded to us, his face grim, "If everything goes well, you should be back here in a week flat. Take care, and don't trust anyone, we have no idea who might be one of Sarn's agents. I will try to get in contact with you as soon as possible." He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice, "There are some people I need to talk to, people who might know something about all this." He shook Fred's hand, then pulled me into a hug. For a moment, I couldn't understand what he was doing, it wasn't as if we were very close, but then I heard his voice low and urgent in my ear.

"You take care of Fred, Sam, you hear me? Don't you lose him."

"No sir, I don't intend to." I murmured back.

"Good girl." He said, releasing me, "And both of you remember, stay safe, and stay alive."

Then, with those cheerful words of parting, he climbed back into the car. The door closed with a solid clunk, and he drove off without looking back.

Fred and I looked at each other, then silently made our way to the bus that had just pulled up to the curb.

I write this, the first part of my journal, under the fluorescent lights of a travel bus. After the two of us finished off the strawberries, Fred Fred fell asleep in his seat beside me; good, he needs the rest. I, however, am far from sleep, although I can only guess when I will get a good chance to rest again. Hopefully by that time, I will know more of this story. For now however, I will say, as another of my favorite book characters would:

And so we go.

**All those who press that lovely little 'review' button will be awarded with a spot in Valinor and more cyber cookies.**

**Shout outs: **

**Huge thanks to Encairion for being the first person **_**ever**_** to review a story of mine, you made my day! Massive amounts of cyber cookies for you!**


	3. An Unexpected Addition

**A/N: I present to you… Chapter Three! I apologize for the shortness, and the delay. I will not however, attempt to explain myself with excuses of homework, exams, tests, family emergencies, or trips to Middle Earth, no matter how much truth they have in them. I know you guys don't want to hear it.**

**Disclaimer:**

**Beyond-the-wit-of-man: (rubs magic lamp)**

**Genie: (appears) You may have three wishes!**

**B-T-W-M: Can you get me the rights to the works of Tolkien?**

**G: No.**

**B-T-W-M: Damn. Well, how about that red vintage Jag I saw the other day?**

**G: *disappointed sigh* young people these days.**

_Most people would rather die than think; in fact, they often do so._

_Bertrand Russell_

**An Unexpected Addition**

Sam's Journal, Entry Two

Our party has grown, and I can't say for sure whether this is a good thing, or a bad one.

You see, it's this way. I had just settled back against the cracked vinyl of the bus seat, hoping to get in an hour or two of rest, when the bus whined and whirred to a stop, as it had done about three times already. As per usual, the doors whined open, and a few, sleepy eyed passengers clambered on and off.

I glanced idly at the door a few seats in front of us as a tired looking business man, an odd looking fellow in yellow rain boots and a garish blue coat, and two hunched up teens scrambled up the steps, paid, and made their way down the isle.

The moment the doors screeched closed again however, the two hunched teens straightened up, throwing their hoods out of their eyes. I let out a sharp breath, recognizing the cheerfully grinning faces of Merrick and Pete.

"Oi! Sam!" Merry called delightedly, "There you are! Didn't think you could get away that easily, did you?"

I moaned slightly. "Fred!" I hissed, "Fred, I'm really sorry, but there's something you have to see."

As Merry and Pete jostled their way towards us, Fred twitched slightly, groaned, and blinked his eyes a few times. He sat up groggily, eyes only half open.

"Wha..?" At that moment, our friends slid into the seat in front of us, and both popped their heads up over the seatback, faces still plastered with earsplitting grins.

"Merry? Pete?" Fred's eyes flew wide open.

"Sir, yessir!" Grinned Pete.

"What are you two doing here?" he asked in amazement.

"We bugged Faldang earlier at the party!" Merry said happily, "It was a dare, you see 'who can plant a bug on the supposed secret agent', and we managed just fine."

"Only," put in Pete "we couldn't find a way of getting it off him again, and then later, on the way home, we heard him talking to you about some Ring, and it sounded interesting, so, well, we just kept listening."

"And then we heard Sam talking." Merry added, with an approving glance at me, "And we heard Faldang say something about a mountain, and a magnet, and a quest, and the end of the world!"

"And so," said Pete, "we decided no way were you guys going on this sort of journey, quest… thing, without us."

"So we 'borrowed' Mum's car, and came after you!" Merry completed, eyes dancing.

I gaped at them, then glanced at Fred. Fred looked impressed, and slightly amazed.

"Fred?" I murmured, "Are you letting them come with us?"

Fred blinked, then slowly nodded, "Yes, yes. I mean, I can't very well send them back now, can I?" he looked at me with a frown, "Can I?"

"No, I suppose not." I muttered, secretly a bit glad that we wouldn't be the only two on this adventure, but also a little worried about the safety of Merry and Pete. The two had never been known for their carefulness or foresight.

Shrugging, I glanced around, the bus was nearly empty except for us, a few businessmen, and old woman, and the odd, blue-coated man who was now singing quietly to himself, the white cord of an ear bud trailing from under his green cap.

A few hours later, Fred, glancing at the address Faldang had given him, announced that this was our stop, and the four of us unstuck ourselves from our seats, and scrambled off.

The street was far from busy, and was lit only by a few old streetlamps and the light coming from the shop windows, and the ever-present orange glow of a city sky. I squinted at my watch. 5:00 am, dawn should have been coming, but there was no sign that it might be on its way. Night seemed to hang over everything like a fog.

Fred peered down the street to sign that read: The Dancing Horse Inn, in old, faded block letters. Just underneath, a smaller sign reading: Vacancy, swung creaking in the flurried breeze. He pointed at the sing. We nodded, and began making our way toward it. I grew tenser with each step, not relaxing even once we were inside, and Fred had checked us into a room, asking, as had been instructed on the back of the slip of paper with the inn's address, if there was a mister 'Stride' staying there.

The answer to this question had been negative, but the concierge had said he would alert us if someone of that name checked in. We thanked him, and decided to get some breakfast, and then some rest.

We were shown to a small room, which served as the inn restaurant, and helped ourselves to muffins, coffee, bagels, eggs, and toast, before retreating to our room.

There were only two beds, but I was more than happy to volunteer to sleep on the floor with a few pillows, and Fred and Pete collapsed on the beds, while Merry sat up to keep watch. We weren't sure that this was entirely necessary, the Dancing Horse seemed safe enough, but keeping watch was an important part of all adventure stories, so we decided it was probably the right thing to do.

I had probably gotten three or four hours of sleep, when I was woken abruptly by someone shaking my arm.

Blinking, I sat up and nearly smacked my face into Merry's.

"Sam!" he whispered urgently, "Stride is here. He says we have to get out of the room, quick!"

Fred and Pete were already on their feet. Pete had grabbed the backpacks, and he tossed me one without looking, as he pulled on a sneaker.

I caught it, and slung it over my back, examining the tall stranger Pete was talking to.

The man had short, dark hair, chocolate brown skin, and a stern, handsome face that had seen too many fights. Two scars ran from his hairline n the left side of his forehead, to the inner corner of his right eye, just skimming the eyebrow as they went.

He smiled grimly at me, and then tossed me a blanket from the bed, growling, "throw it over the pillows, make it look like there's someone sleeping under it.

I obeyed wordlessly, and quickly helped Merry do the same to the pillows and blankets on the beds, while Pete finished one more on the floor.

Within three minutes, it looked as though four children or teens were sleeping soundly, curled up under a few masses of blankets.

Stride nodded, then beckoned for us to follow. We went quickly, and I flicked off the light on the way out. Stride led us down the stairs. He nodded at the concierge on the way out the door. The man nodded back, looking nervous, and for the first time, I wondered how much he might know.

It then occurred to me that we didn't even know what Stride knew. Faldang had said he would send a 'friend', that was all. In fact, how were we to know that this man was that 'friend' at all?

However, I had no choice but to trust him, for now anyways, and so I followed him out into the street, and across to a small brick building on the other side.

Stride led us up a few flights of twisted stairs, and into a small, clean, room, empty but for a bed, a sink, a small desk, and a battered looking computer. The moment the door swung shut, Stride turned directly to Fred, pulling an envelope from a pocket of his long coat, and tossing it to him.

"A note from Faldang." He explained, "An assurance that you can trust me, I would assume." He let out a short bark of harsh laughter.

Fred nodded, "Yes, he doesn't say much, just that he's told you all about the ring, and that I should listen to you, and do as you say, but it's definitely his handwriting. I'd know it anywhere."

Stride's mouth twitched, as though in a failed attempt to smile, but then he frowned. "And where, might I ask, did you pick up these two?" he said sternly gesturing to Merry and Pete. "I was told only about you and Samantha."

"These are our friends, Merrick and Peter, they, um, overheard the conversation between myself and Sam and uncle Faldang, so they followed us. I said they could come, if they like." Fred said hesitantly.

Stride only nodded, then glanced at the computer. "Come here." He said, moving over to the screen and clicking on a small black icon. We gathered around him as the screen filled with a grainy, black and white image.

"This," He gestured, "is the feed from a camera I left in the room right before we left."

I raised my eyebrows. I hadn't noticed this camera. I didn't have much time to dwell on it, however, as at that moment, something on the computer screen moved.

Pete pointed at the movement excitedly, and Merry, beside him, whispered, "what is it?"

His question was answered a moment later, when a window in the corner of the inn's room opened, and we saw four slim, black clad figures slip through. Pete gasped, in either fear or excitement, and I knew that he too, had spotted the large, very nasty looking variety of weapons that they carried. Fred drew in a gasp as they each pulled an almost delicate looking gun from their holsters, and positioned themselves, one above each of the curled mounds. I watched in horrified fascination as they simultaneously screwed bulbous silencers onto the barrels, and took careful aim at the places where our sleeping heads should have been.

The shots rang through the air, the silencers nowhere near enough to muffle the sharp cracks that echoed though the early morning streets.

On the screen, there were puffs of feathers, as bullets ripped through the layers of pillows and blankets. The rage of the black figures was nearly a tangible thing in the air around us, even though we could only see them on the computer screen.

We heard a scream of fury from across the street, and on instinct, I glanced around, looking for a way out in case they came here. By the time I looked back at the screen, the only sign of the figures was the shredded bedding, and a glimpse of a black-gloved hand slamming the window shut, just before it disappeared.

Already, I could hear sirens in the distance.

"What are they?" Fred whispered, his voice horrified, his hand clutched around the small golden ring.

**Remember, pressing that lovely little review button is the best way to motivate me to update!**

**Shout outs: Cyber chocolate mocha chip cookies to Jeremy, AshleySciFigirl, and merlyn2!**

**Jeremy: Thank you! The encouragement is vastly appreciated! I hope you enjoy the new chapter!**

**AshleySciFigirl: I have gotten someone who doesn't normally like LOTR fanfic to read this?! Yay! I hope I can write up to this level! I am using a mostly movie based storyline, I will admit, although I hope to add back in at the very least a few references to many things that are only in the book. (eg. Bombadil and Glorfindel.) **

**Merlyn: I will certainly keep the thing about the names in mind. Thank you for that. **

**p.s. I'm glad you liked that line, I was rather proud of it.**


	4. Blood, and Roses Too

**A/N: I'm thrilled that you guys seemed to like the little Tom Bombadil cameo! He happens to be one of my favorite characters, so I couldn't bear to leave him out completely. I hope you all enjoy the chapter! **

**Disclaimer: You know, usually the fact that one is writing **_**Fan**_**Fiction is a pretty good clue that one does not own the books.**

_Although personally I am quite content with existing explosives, I feel we must not stand in the path of improvement._

_ -Winston Churchill_

**Blood, and Roses Too**

Sam's Journal, entry three

"They call themselves L.E.S" Stride said quietly, "League of the Endeavourers of Sarn, they are representatives of a few of those to whom Sarn gave Rings. Over the years, the power that the Rings control, however slight it might be in comparison to that of the One Ring, has never the less taken over them." Stride's voice grew harsher, "There are only nine who possess Rings that have become what those that you just saw are, only nine that are completely in his power. Another seven have been lost, or destroyed with the help of our agents over the years, and the final three are kept safely by those who know what the rings are, and what they are capable of."

"So," said Pete, "those guys have Rings with them?"

"No," Stride shook his head, "those are merely agents of the nine. The nine themselves wait for more orders from their leader, Sarn."

"But, but how can he be giving them orders?" asked Fred, "I mean, isn't he in hiding or something? If not, then why don't you and a couple of your spy friends get rid of him? Arrest him, or kill him or… well, _something."_

Stride just looked at Fred sadly. "Fred, no, he isn't in hiding, not really. Sarn Enterprises is running smoothly with him at its head. He goes about his day-to-day business in such a way as to not rouse suspicion, but he is always looking for the Ring. And as for arrest or assassination, well, he's to well protected. Any attempt to take him down so openly would only end in disaster for us. No, keeping the Ring from him is the best we can hope for at the moment."

I jolted myself out of the daze I had been in, as I stared at the still drifting feathers that were the only movement on the computer screen. "So, what now? Mr. Stride, sir?" I asked. I could hear sirens form police cars all around us, and personally, I didn't see how we were going to get out of here. They would probably have the entire area cordoned off.

Stride seated himself before the computer again, and clicked on a minimized page at the corner of the screen, then glanced over at me. "This is where we have to get to:" he said, "Manhattan. We will find the people whom I hope can keep the ring safe, here. Unfortunately, the agents of the nine will already be looking for us. We have to take a route that they won't expect. It is my plan to take the Brooklyn Bridge to get onto the island. It is a longer, more roundabout trip, rather inconvenient and out of our way, but hopefully that will throw them off our scent."

As Stride spoke, he traced the route with the cursor. Pete peered at the screen.

"But, how do we get there?" he asked, "We haven't got a car or anything."

"We'll slip past these police on foot." Stride gestured in the general direction of the loudest sirens, "Then we'll find a cab to take into the city we should hopefully be inconspicuous that way."

"Right. So, when do we leave?" asked Fred.

"As soon as I give the four of you these." Stride stood and walked over to the bed. Stooping, he pulled a large black case from under it, flicked the clasps, and selected four small, scary looking handguns from the array of weaponry inside.

He handed one to each of us, a grim expression on his face. "With any luck, you won't have to use these. But I would rather be safe than sorry." He started for the door, then turned, as if remembering something. "Wait. Do the four of you have any idea how use one of these?"

Fred, Merry and I shook our heads, but Pete, careful and responsible as ever grinned and nearly bouncing at the thought of holding something that could probably cause a few minor explosions and quite a bit of destruction, grinned and exclaimed, "Nope, but how hard can it be, really? Just point the end with the hole at the bad guys and pull the trigger!"

I nearly groaned, but Stride a light rueful smile on his lips, murmured, "Yes, yes Pete, something like that."

Fred and I exchanged a glance, then shrugged. I tucked the gun under my jacket, and followed the others out the door and down the creaking old steps.

Luck seemed to be on our side, as we moved quickly down the dirty grey sidewalks. No police car seemed interested in four teens and an adult strolling down the street, or maybe they just didn't see us. Stride, it seemed, had a way of not being noticed unless he wanted to be. We turned of Barley Street, where the safe house had been, and onto North Ave without anyone bothering us, from there, we cut off onto Green Street. Our luck lasted all the way to Weather Street.

They attacked out of nowhere. One minute the grey streets were empty but for the old plastic bags that skittered in the slight breeze, and the crushed cans and cigarette butts that lined the curbs; the next minute, we were under fire.

Stride acted before I had even had a chance to process the fact that a bullet had just torn past my ear with a sharp, ugly whistle. He shoved me and Pete into the alley behind him drew his pistol and, returned fire while grabbing Merry by the collar of his coat and tossing him after us.

Frantically, I looked around for Fred; he had been trailing just behind Stride as we walked, and I just behind him. That meant he had to be here _somewhere_. He couldn't just disappear! Oh, where _was _Fred! There! He had ducked behind one of the many avant-garde sculptures that seemed to pop up everywhere in this part of town. The twisted blob of metal and glass dented and shattered in places as bullets rained off it, but Fred appeared to be safe, for the moment at least.

Beside me, Pete was shaking, and I saw him fumbling with his gun. Merry was looking dazed, possibly from jolt of being tossed into an alley like a piece of old gum. I tried to think, to straighten my mind out. What could I do? How could I help Stride? How could I help Fred? Fred! I saw the black suited figure creep up around the sculpture a moment to late. By the time I screamed "Stride!" the figure already had Fred by the throat, and was wrestling with him, apparently trying to get at the ring.

Stride whirled around and aimed at the figure, but he couldn't fire without risking hitting Fred too. Fred kicked out viciously, and the figure stumbled backwards.

It was enough. Stride released three quick shots at the figure before it had a chance to launch itself back onto Fred. One of the bullets found its mark in the figure's forearm.

Fred tripped over backwards, and fell, his gun skittering off over the asphalt. As Stride fired another few bursts, the figure took off, only slowing down enough to fire a few rounds back at Stride and Fred. I caught glimpses of three of four other figures fleeing over the rooftops and into alleys, each one of them shooting off an occasional burst.

I had just let out a breath of relief when I heard one last _crack _of a shot, and saw a rose of blood flower across Fred's white T-shirt on his left shoulder, just a few inches above his heart.

Everything seemed to fall into slow motion. The shooting had stopped, and now the only sounds I could hear were the thudding of my heart, the screams of far off sirens, and the horrid, shrieking, half screams, half gasps that were coming from Fred.

I ran, or at least tried to run to him. But it was like one of those awful dreams where you have to run. You know you have to run, but no matter how fast you tell your legs to move, they still fell slow, heavy, like you're running through syrup.

Finally, I made it to him. Stride was already there. He had torn off a sleeve of his shirt, and was pressing it against the horrible wound. Blood seeped around his fingers, as Fred's face turned a sickly, pallid shade of chartreuse. My ears filled with dizzy buzzing, and my mouth was dry. The red of blood seemed to fill my vision, but I told myself I would not be sick. I would not, I would not, I would… I had to turn around and bite my lip to keep myself from vomiting.

"Sam. Sam!" I head Stride call my name in his deep, controlled voice. Slowly, I turned to him.

"Yes, s-sir?"

"Sam, you sweater."

Blindly, fingers fumbling, I pulled off the sweater and handed it to him. He pressed it against the wound and the navy wool darkened almost to black as the blood soaked into it.

I turned away again and there was a sudden screech behind me. I spun back to see a glimmering white Mercedes skid to a halt in front of us. A woman with long, perfect blonde hair sprung gracefully from the driver's side door and flew to kneel beside Stride.

Without a word, he moved away and allowed he to look at the mass of blood that Fred had become. Quickly, she opened a purse and began to dress the wound, he words flying as fast as her fingers.

"What were you thinking Stride? Kids in a firefight! How could you be that careless? You're getting rusty. Ron Del sends me to keep an eye on you and help get you into Manhattan, simple job, he says, nothing to it, and what do I find? Bullets, blood, and children! We need to get him to Ron quickly, he keeps a couple of good doctors these days, and God knows we've needed them!"

"Gloria, calm down." Stride's voice was as even as ever. "I can take the boy, you take care of the others.

"No you will not take the boy! I can drive much faster than you can, don't deny it. You get these three to HQ safely, and by the quickest route. Not by Queen's Midtown Tunnel though, that's where Ron told me to go, he says he has it set up so that if I'm followed, he can make sure no one can get in there after me, and I have a feeling that he means _no _one, not even you."

Then with a whirl of expensive looking leather and rose colored silk, Gloria picked up Fred laid him down in the back seat of the Mercedes, ran lightly around to the other side, and slide gracefully through the window into the driver's seat.

The gleaming white car took off with a screech and the smell of melted rubber, leaving me, Merry, and Pete with an ever grim looking secret agent, a pool of our friend's blood, and the echoing sound of sirens headed our way.

**There's the review button! Go on, click it! I dare you…**

**Shout outs:**

**Random: Thank you! I'm flattered! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**AshleySciFigirl: you're welcome for the cookies **** Yes! You noticed the cameo! Score! I'm glad you liked it. I agree, Professor Tolkien is probably spinning like a top because of my story at the moment. I can only hope that there are other fics out there that are more distressing than my humble attempt at writing. ;-)**

**Merlyn2: Yay! Someone else noticed Tom! Thank you! Enjoy the chapter!**

**Robotminione: Thank you for the suggestions, they are always appreciated. As for public awareness in the second and third book, I am rather intrigued by the idea of a WWIII, but I won't give away too much now, only rest assured that I will try to make it as epic as possible **


	5. All that Glitters

**A/N: I'm switching gears a bit for this one, and letting Sam have a coffee break. Instead of an update from her journal, here is a oneshot style look into the thoughts Gloria (my modern, female, extremely ooc Glorfindel). Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I was just searching through my old files of quotations, and I found this one from Mark Twain which I thought was perfect for a disclaimer: **_**Only one thing is impossible for God: To find any sense in any copyright law on the planet. **_**Unfortunately, as should be obvious by now, the government is not God, in any way shape or form, thus, we do have a copyright law, and so, I am forced to admit, I am not JRR Tolkien.**

_We are all worms. But I believe that I am a glow-worm._

_-Winston Churchill_

**All that Glitters**

Gloria's POV

I can feel the smooth purr of the engine, humming softly through the buttery leather of the seat. The smell of blood in the car is nearly overwhelming. I'm going to have to get this thing aired out_ really_ well before I drive it again. Oh well, a small price to pay for getting the ring to Ron Del safely.

Ron. I've been working for him for years, ever since a small accident at my high school in my junior year involving myself, a pack of gum, some plastic explosive, and a jerk of an ex boyfriend.

Ron managed to smooth the whole thing over, on one condition: That I became the new teen operative for the CIA. I agreed. That was nearly twelve years ago now, and I can't say I've ever regretted it.

Besides, the expression on my ex's face was far too good to be spoiled by a jail sentence.

And now, here I am, bringing a boy younger than I was when I joined straight to Ron.

A hint of doubt niggles my thoughts. _What if Ron tries to recruit the boy?_ I push the thought away. After all, even if it happens, the boy will be fine. I'm fine, after all, aren't I?

Of course I am, I tell myself. Of course I am.

I glance down at my hands on the steering wheel. The nails are perfectly manicured ovals, shining with clear polish. The fingers themselves are long, and slim._ Pianist's fingers _I think. These are not the hands of a spy, of a woman who has seen what I've seen, done what I've done. These are not the hands of a killer.

_Enough! _I can't have these thoughts, not now. I have a job to do. Get the boy to HQ; get him to Ron before he bleeds to death.

_The boy. Why can I only think of him as the boy? He does have a name. _But I can't think it, and I know why. I've seen too many people die. If he dies, with no name, then it will be better for me. It will be better if I don't feel like I know him.

_Better. For me. _For me, always for me. That's the way it's always been, look out for #1. It's just how I am.

I glance out the tinted window. Enough with the musings, I can't get sloppy, not now.

And, of course, I'm right, I _can't_ get sloppy. The Ring is here, with me in this car, and, as that glance just told me, there is an inconspicuous black car four places behind me, and another one two places back and to my left. I've seen them before. They're following me.

Just to make sure, I take a few unnecessary detours. They're still with me. I step on it. They speed up.

My perfect hands grip the wheel. With the toe of one fourteen hundred dollar Italian leather boot, I press the gas. The needle on the speedometer creeps right.

I begin to weave through the cars. Horns blare, and I can see the blurs of angry, shouting faces. But it doesn't matter. I have to get to the tunnel. I fly past a green road sign. Three more miles.

I can feel my teeth dig into my painted red lips. The designer jacket suddenly feels tight, constricting the air in my lungs.

Another road sign. Two more miles to the tunnel. A single bead of perspiration rolls down my forehead.

One more mile. _Hang on Fred. _His name. I have let him have a name. Dammit.

The first bullet pings off the back of the car. There goes the paint job. Seconds later, the next one hits. And the next, and the next. I ignore the sirens, concentrating only on the road.

Half a mile.

I can make it. I think. The sirens are louder, the people in the cars have heard them, and the guns. They panic.

A quarter of a mile.

Almost there. But the crowds of cars are too tightly packed. I can't make it

_Yes I can_. It isn't worth it. I'm tired, so, so tired. I've seen too much, lived through too much. I won't do this anymore, not for me.

_ For Fred. _

The thought comes from nowhere. Can I? Can make it through this for someone else? Not for me?

Five hundred feet.

I can.

Three hundred.

I can't.

Two hundred.

I can. I should. I won't.

One hundred.

I press a button on the panel next to me.

"Agent Glitters, is that you?"

I smile, and lean towards the mic.

"Eli? It's me, Gloria."

"We're supposed to use your codename, agent."

"Never mind that now, I'm coming up on Queen's Midtown fast. Two hostiles behind me. Whatever Ron has in store for them, get it ready."

"Roger that, Agent Glitters."

"Roger, Roger, Agent Sun." I murmur and smile. "Over and out."

"Over and…"

But the end of his message is cut off as I enter the tunnel.

I swerve past the four cars in front of me, and step on it for the last few hundred meters.

I hit the end of the tunnel, and emerge from the orange florescent lighting into the welcoming glare of the sun. I count slowly to myself.

Three

Two

One

_ Bam!_

I can feel shockwaves from the explosion behind me. I glance into the rear view mirror to see the river rushing into the ditch that used to be a marvel of engineering.

Ron never does anything halfway, does he?

But a whole tunnel?

In the middle of Manhattan?

Just how powerful _is _this Ring?

I shrug, and feel something sting my eyes, and it's only then that I realize I'm crying. My mascara will be running everywhere, and my makeup will be ruined.

Oh well.

At least I'm alive. And so is Fred, I can hear his breath, ragged, but still there. I smile, widely now.

I look out the window and across the crowds. I can see the sunlight bounce off a thousand mirrors, a thousand windows, a thousand watch faces, mp3 players, necklaces and rings. I see the sunlight glitter.

**Okay, you all know the drill by now.**

**Shout outs: **

**Merlyn2- Glad you liked it! Pete's remark was actually a slightly altered quotation from my little brother, but I though it fit **

**Jeremy- Thanks! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!**


	6. Ever On and On

**A/N: dear god, third update in two days. I think **_**I**_** get cyber chocolate chip cookies for that. Or maybe just real ones. Well, Sam is still on her coffee break, but uncle Faldang has kindly volunteered to step in and do a bit of narrating for this one. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Please, let's not rub in the fact that I don't own LoTR any more than we have to, mmm?**

_Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society._

_ -Mark Twain_

**Ever On and On**

Faldang's POV

I needed help, and advice. As always in this situation, my first thought was to go to my old teacher and mentor, Sebastian Kyler.

Sebastian had been at the Academy when I was first trained for this sort of life, and he hadn't changed a bit in the years since my graduation. Every time I checked in on him, he was still the same headmaster I had always known. Perhaps a few more wrinkles and a strand or two more of white hair with each passing visit, but those were the only signs of aging he ever showed.

And so now, almost as if by habit, he was the first person I sought counsel with, the same way I had gone to him whenever my need was most pressing over the past few decades.

The plane ride was as long as ever, and the long lines at customs and immigration did not help my impatience. I managed to conceal my anxiety as I passed through however, and the man behind the desk asked only a few quickly answered questions before stamping the fake passport I had handed him, and allowing one 'Mitchell Andy Pilgrum' into the country.

Mitchell Andy was my most commonly used alias in this part of the world, and it had served me well for many years after Faldang Grey became too unsafe for me to be known by.

I now tucked the papers back into my coat, and hurried out the door into the chilly, metallic air of Moscow.

I hurried through the streets of one of the world's most expensive cities without even glancing at the impressive architecture and glimmering lights that had once so impressed me. At the moment, my only thought was that of my errand. I needed to get to Sebastian and then back to New York as quickly as possible. In the meantime, I could only hope that Stride had gotten the quick message I had sent him from Heathrow, and that, if he did get it, he would be in a position to attend to it as soon as possible.

The glare of headlights blinded me momentarily as a car swung around a corner, then halted beside me.

The back door of a long, black sedan opened, and out stepped the very man I had been wanting to see.

"Faldang, my old friend!" Sebastian Kyler cried jovially, opening his fur clad arms in a welcoming greeting.

"Sebastian, you old scoundrel!" I smiled, "How did you know I was here already?"

"Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that." He waved dismissively, "I have a few friends in customs and immigration, and I've asked them to keep an eye out for you."

"You knew I'd be coming here then?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Things have been happening lately, whispers from the east. I knew a man as clever as you couldn't miss them, and once you were aware of the rumors, I confess that I was arrogant enough to be hopeful that you would come for advice." He smiled genially. "But this is neither the time, nor the place for such a discussion. Come, get in the car, we can talk safely there."

I accepted his invitation gratefully, and once we were comfortably situated, he signaled his driver to be off, then settled back contentedly in his seat.

"So," he began, "you've heard the rumors about Sarn then?"

"Yes," I nodded, "They say he's looking for the Ring again. I've also heard tales of an army of his."

"An army? Well, that would be a serious matter, wouldn't it?" He raised his eyebrows.

I nodded my agreement. Any army controlled by Sarn would be serious indeed.

"I might even go so far as to say that the only way to defeat such an army would be to have control of the Ring." He continued.

At this, my head jerked up. "Control of the Ring? What madness are you talking Sebastian?"

He shook his head. "Not madness, my old friend, but wisdom. Imagine Faldang, what could we achieve if the power the Ring controls were ours!"

I looked hard at him. He sat up straight, his voice earnest, and excited. "Sebastian," I murmured, trying to put sense back into his head. "you know as well as I do that the Ring can only truly belong to its maker, Sarn."

"Forgive me, my old friend," he said, "but I cannot agree. The ring is merely an object, a powerful one, no doubt, but an object nonetheless. And any man can own any object, as long as he is strong enough to bear it. You, my friend, are strng enough, I am sure. Join me, together we could do much. We could find the Ring, we could use it to bring down Sarn, and then, well, we could use it as we wished. It would be a wise move, Faldang, and you were always one for wisdom."

"Sebastian," I pleaded, "think what you are saying! I may have always been one to take wisdom to heart, but you were always one to give it! Where has that wisdom gone? For, you must see that this is mad!"

"Then you will not join me?" he asked, his tone almost sorrowful.

"Of course I will not! Sebastian, what are you..?"

At that moment, my dear friend and mentor nodded to the two guards sitting silently behind us, and I felt a cold, steel barrel press itself to my temple. The car pulled up to a tall building of steel and black glass.

"Gentlemen," Sebastian gestured to the two guards, who carefully forced me out onto the sidewalk, the gun still to my temple "please take my friend to his rooms." He looked at me with an apologetic smile, "I'm afraid I won't be able to let you see the sights of Moscow on this trip, that is, unless you change your mind about assisting me. But that is something we will discuss tomorrow. Meanwhile," his smile widened and his voice grew sweeter, "Sleep well!" then, with a cheery wave, he spoke a few words to the driver, and the black sedan took off.

The street was quiet, but even had there been traffic, I got the felling that no one was going to mess with these guys. No one was going to help.

The guards led me inside, and into a plush, gilded lift. One of them pressed the button for the penthouse on the fiftieth floor, and the lift lurched upward.

The doors opened into a small corridor that was really more of an entryway, with only one door directly opposite us.

The two guards quickly searched me, taking the three guns and five small knives concealed on my person. A guard strode over to it and pressed his index finger to the small pad beside the doorframe. There was a quiet whirr, and a light flashed. The guard then rested his chin on a small white shelf a foot above the pad, and a blue beam shot from the lens above it, taking a reading of his retina. There was another flash, then a beep and a pneumatic hiss. The door slid open, and the second guard ushered me into the room, then waited for the door shut nearly all the way before withdrawing the arm that was still holding a gun to my head.

The door clicked shut behind me, and I was alone in the dimly lit room.

Slowly, I smiled, then, checking for CCTV cameras and seeing no tell tale red blinking light, I pulled a small, moth shaped charm from around my neck, and pressed the button disguised as a beat of turquoise on its back.

"Gwinn, my boy," I whispered, "I hope this thing works."

Sebastian visited me first thing in the morning, but left soon after I informed him that no, I had not changed my mind, promising with a patient smile that he would return later.

Dusk fell, and the clouds turned city-sky orange with the lights of the metropolis. If the moth charm had worked, I should know any minute now.

I heard the hiss of the door opening, and Sebastian entered again, flanked by his goons.

"So, my friend," he said, the smile still in place, the benevolent tone never leaving his voice, "Will you consent to join me? My patience will not last forever you know."

There was a faint humming that I could hear through the reinforced glass of my window.

I made a gesture that I considered most unlike myself, but desperate times will bring out the crude side in people.

For a moment, his genial façade slipped, and his eyes flashed. He recovered himself quickly however, and smiling again said, "Faldang, I must warn you, you may not get an opportunity like this again. Again, I give you a choice. Join me, or die."

I didn't answer. Instead, I took the moth charm that I had been holding and twisted it twice. The wings separated, and I flung it at the window behind me, diving to the floor as I did so.

Gunshots rang out, mingling with the noise of an explosion and shattered glass.

I quickly rolled, then ran keeping my head low towards the gaping hole where the window had been. Using the sill as a springboard, I flung myself out the window. My fingers found purchase on the edge of the door of the matte black helicopter hovering just above, and I swung myself up through the open doorway.

The metal hatch slammed shut behind me, and I sat up, breathing hard, adrenalin still coursing through me.

I looked up to see the smiling face of Gwinn Withers looking back at me from the pilot's seat of the chopper.

"Oi! Grey!" he grinned, "You all good there buddy?"

"Yes Gwinn, thank you." I smiled back.

He tossed be a bag of peanuts. "Its all good. Now we're even for the San Jose thing."

I tore open the bag, only now realizing that I was famished. "You took your sweet time though. I almost thought you had left me."

"Hey, it's a long flight from Austin. But never fear, the Eagle has never let me down." He slapped the dashboard affectionately.

I smiled and nodded sleepily.

"Wait man, you can't sleep just yet. You haven't told me where we're headed!"

"Can you take me to New York Gwinn?"

"New York? Not me man, the whole place is in some sort of lockdown, something about terrorists and an explosion at Queens Midtown Tunnel.

Explosions. I groaned quietly. I had a hunch about who might be behind such a thing, and it wasn't terrorists.

"Alright then Gwinn, can you take me to London? I have some friends there who might be able to get me into New York."

"Sure can do."

"Thank you Quinn."

"No problem man."

The flight to London seemed almost short, and before long, I had managed to take my usual short cuts through security and was in the office of my old friend, the Prime Minister.

Perhaps though, old is the operative word here.

He seemed to have aged at least a decade from when I had last seen him, and his eyes were clouded with troubles. Even his greeting, if it could be called that seemed old, and sour.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Crow." He said, his voice cold. Despite the fact that I had know him long and advised him often, he still called me by the alias I had used when we first met.

"Good afternoon Theodore." I smiled despite his iciness.

"What do you want?" he asked abruptly. "I am too busy to chat for long."

"Too busy even for an old friend?" I asked, taken aback slightly.

"You call yourself a friend?" now the man who sat beside him spoke up. I had seen the man before on my last visit. The new advisor to Theodore, he was an unpleasant, oily looking little man, with slicked back hair and a smile that reminded me unnervingly of Sebastian's.

"I should hope I call myself a friend." I murmured. "Is there a reason why a should not?"

"Only that you seem to only come here to ask the Prime Minister for something, or else to give us, him, bad news." Even his tone was similar to Sebastian's.

"I'm sorry if you think so," I said, "but I come only to ask a small thing. I need to go to New York, and I have been told that that is nearly impossible at the moment.

I thought if anyone could get me there, you could." I nodded respectfully to Theodore.

He scowled, but nodded. "If that is the fastest way to get rid of you, then take one of my small planes and go. They won't stop you if you're traveling in a politician's plane."

"Thank you, Theo." I said. "I will get out of your hair then, shall I?"

"Please do." The oily fellow gestured at the door, and I took the hint.

An hour later, I was a few thousand feet in the air, traveling quickly towards JFK airport, interested and worried to see exactly what damage had been caused in getting the Ring to Ron Del, and the safety of River Tower, headquarters of the CIA.

**Review? Pretty please? Come on, I **_**did **_**update a whole bunch after all.**


	7. Of Arrivals and Explosions

**A/N: Just a quick update. Sam has returned from her coffee break, so she will be narrating nearly all of this chapter, with a few paragraphs from Faldang at the end. Oh, and has anyone seen the new LOTR fan film, **_**Born of Hope? **_**Amazingly good for a fan made movie. **

** Disclaimer: **

**Gollum: Nasssty tricksssy author! Pretendsss to be JRR Tolkeinses!**

**Smeagol: No, no! not pretendses. Nice author is just a fan, wanting to write down a couple of ideases!**

**Gollum: Calls herself 'beyond-the-wit-of-manses' she does, but not beyond our wit precioussss, no, no, we seeses what she iss up to! Infringement of copyrightses it is. Oh yess, my precious! Author iss a liar, and a thief!**

**Smeagol: Go away! We don't needs you mucking up our storieses!**

**Beyond-the-wit-of-man: shhh, both of you. No, I don't own LOTR, now lets get on with the story, shall we?**

_Memories are like mulligatawny soup in a cheap restaurant. It is best not to stir them._

_ -P.G. Wodehouse_

**Of Arrivals and Explosions**

Sam's Journal, Entry Four

Stride didn't give us long to hang around and feel sorry. With a sharp "Follow me!" he set off down an alley, away from the sirens. Already, people seemed to be coming from everywhere, trying to find out what all the noise was about.

We wound our way through back streets until Stride finally slowed his pace.

"What now, Stride?" Pete asked, eyes wide.

"We need to get onto the island as soon as possible. There's no time to find a car. We'll take the subway."

We found a subway entrance only a few streets away, and Stride quickly bought three passes for Pete, Merry, and myself. Pulling a worn looking pass from a pocket, he beckoned for us to follow him onto the platform.

The tracks stretched into blackness in either direction. The yellow warning lines painted on the edges of the grimy cement platform were worn and grayish. Everywhere, streams of people flowed. If I closed my eyes, the only sounds were the deafening clank and roar of machinery, and the rustles and patters of people walking. No one spoke, and no one smiled. The only true color came from the bold advertisements and movie posters that covered the walls. It was eerie, the huge numbers of people and yet so little human noise.

To one side there was a rush and a roar as a train pulled up in a clamorous clatter and screech of metal. The doors whined open, and we made our way into the harshly lit car, finding seats towards the back.

Pete was looking nervously around, and as we sat, he leaned over towards Merry and whispered, "Do you think any of those nine black dressed guys came after us?"

Merry shook his head, "I dunno Pete, they might've. I didn't see any though, did you?"

Pete glanced nervously around. "Nope, but I don't think we'd see 'em. I mean, we didn't last time, did we? Not 'til they were already on us."

"Yeah, but now we're on the alert aren't we?"

Pete shrugged. "I guess. Even if they did follow though, they can't be too close now. Hard for them to follow us in the subway unless they're on the same train as us."

"I hope so, Pete." Merry nodded.

The car stopped and the doors slid open. Automatically I turned towards them, half expecting to see a group of black clad figures come in guns blazing. The only people to enter the car however, were a few more blank faced commuters with grey coats, grey briefcases, and grey hair.

I pulled my iPod from my pocket and put it on shuffle. Leaning back in the orange plastic seat, I gazed at the off white ceiling above me, trying to erase the pictures of blood and panic from my mind. I was exhausted, but afraid to close my eyes, since in the dark the horrid images only became more alive and defined.

I tried to drown out the sounds of gunshots and screams that buzzed in my ears by turning up the music, but all that seemed to do was make the cracks, bangs, and agonized shouts louder, and more painful.

My head was pounding, and I could feel myself starting to fall apart. No. I couldn't, not yet, and not here. We would be fine. Fred would be fine. In a few hours Fred would be in the care of people who knew how to treat his injuries, the ring would be in the hands of people who could keep it safe, and Pete, Merry and I would be making preparations for the trip back home. In a few hours everything would be right.

I swallowed hard, and looked over at Stride, who was casually scanning the digital display showing the next few stops, and checking his watch. In his long dark coat and passive expression he could have been just another one of the two dozen odd people sitting around us, murmuring quietly into cell phones, tapping away on various handheld electronic devices, or burying their noses in magazines and newspapers.

The only sign of worry or impatience he showed was a slight crease between his eyebrows, but, after all, that was hardly irregular or suspicious; it must be from worry about taxes, or bills, or work. Surely he couldn't be nervously expecting a crowd of armed and dangerous sketchy looking agents of some evil guy to come in looking for him and the kids with him. No, no, that would be ridiculous.

I sighed a little, and sank back, pulled this journal from one of our bags, and wrote down what had just happened in the hopes that putting it on paper might lessen my fear for Fred, or the sickened feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The writing helped to order my thoughts a bit, and when I was done, I put the book away, sinking into the odd, half asleep haze that comes from exhaustion mixed with fear and a long, long ride.

The four of us climbed out of the depths of the tunnels, blinking in the perpetual dim light that filters through the pollution and between the buildings of any city.

The sense of urgency that had settled into a sort of nervous suspense during the subway ride was back in Stride's step. As Merry, Pete, and I hurried along to keep up with him, we were surrounded in the flurries of motion, color, and noise that fill New York, and for the moment at least, the exigency of our hurried pace mixed with the rush around us blocked out my thoughts of blood and bullets.

Every few moments, as we wound and pushed our way along the sidewalks, one of us would glance surreptitiously around, ever on the alert for more of the black figures.

Suddenly, something caught my eye. A TV just inside an open fronted bar, Images of a large explosion and a lot of rushing water flickering across the screen. It was blaring loudly enough that I could just make out a few disconnected words. "Explosion… terrorists… reports coming in… Queen's Midtown Tunn…" The last bit of the reporter's speech was cut off as an unusually noisy truck rumbled past.

"Stride!" I hissed, pointing.

He squinted at the screen, which now had a large image of a cloud of smoke, a lot of flame, and the caption 'Queen's Midtown Tunnel Explosion' in large block letters, cursed quietly, and "Pete, Merry, come, we have to hurry. I'm afraid something unplanned may have happened."

"How much lon…"

"The more blocks." Stride cut Pete off before he could finish the question.

"I'm hungry!" Pete moaned, staring longingly at a cart piled high with bagels.

"We'll have more than enough time to eat once we get to River Tower." Stride assured him.

"Don't worry mate." Merry muttered to his friend. "Come on, the faster we walk, the faster we get there, and the sooner we get to eat!"

Pete sighed a bit dejectedly, but quickened his pace nonetheless.

I walked faster too. I wasn't so concerned with my stomach, but the sooner I got to River Tower, the sooner I would know if Fred had gotten there safely, and if the explosion had had anything to do with him.

You could say that River tower was a skyscraper, and you would be right. You could say that it was a work of art, and you would be right. You could say that it was a fortress, and you would be right as well.

It was oddly elegant, even from the outside, for a skyscraper. The lines were clean and sharp, but somehow not as harsh as those of the buildings around it. Inside, the furnishings were modern, and unexpectedly artistic, with fairly simple but comfortable furniture, and abstract paintings that hung on the tastefully painted walls.

However, there were signs of hidden, more dangerous things. There was a small, unusual beep and flash as we walked in, and cameras surveyed out every move. More than this however, there was an odd, intangible sense of being scanned, monitored, and evaluated by some out of sight force.

Stride walked purposefully up to the large desk of light colored wood that stood directly opposite the door, and spoke quickly to the auburn haired receptionist.

The girl nodded a bit, then picked up a phone and pressed a number, paused for a moment, then said a few words into it before hanging up and nodding to Stride. Raising her voice so that Merry, Pete and I could hear as well, she announced, "You can go right up to see him as soon as we make sure you're clean. You'll understand, I'm sure, but we can't go letting any bugs in here uninvited."

"Clean?" I heard Pete whisper to Merry. "What, do I have to take a bath?"

"No, idiot, clean as in you don't have any coolio spy stuff on you that you're smuggling in." Merry muttered.

"Oh."

"Wait, first, is Fred here?" I asked. "Is he okay? What about that explosion?"

The receptionist nodded. "Your friend is here. Mr. Del has a few doctors with him right now. The explosion at the tunnel is nothing for you to worry about. Now please, this way."

I was still apprehensive about Fred's condition, but I followed her along with the others into a side room where a couple of guys ran some sort of scanning device over each of us, searched out bags, had us walk through a metal detector, and finally declared us 'clean.'

The receptionist beckoned us back into the lobby and pointed us to one of the elevators to our right. "Up there, thirtieth floor, turn left, all the way to the end of the hall, the door to your right. But," she looked appraisingly at Stride, "I believe you've been there before?"

"Yes, I have." He nodded.

"Well, up you go then." She smiled at us, and pulled a remote from beneath her desk, pointing it at the elevator and pressing one of the buttons. The doors slid open, and we climbed in. Stride pressed the button for the thirtieth floor, and we were on our way up.

Faldang's POV

I was given no trouble as I landed the small, white Cessna on the tarmac and taxied to the instructed hangar. The control tower had seen the registration number for the plane, and found the Prime Minister's name beside it in their files, that was enough to clear the runway for me.

After breezing through customs, I was once again on the streets of a city, headed to a meeting with an old, and powerful friend. I could only hope that this meeting would yield more positive results than the last two.

I quickly hailed a cab, gave the driver the address of River Tower, and thirty minutes of city traffic, Three minutes of conversation with a red haired receptionist, and ten minutes of scans and searches later, I was in a lift in the headquarters of the CIA, on my way up to see Ron Del, and, with any luck, my nephew, Fred.

**Gollum: Leave! No reviewses! Not for nasssssty authorses!**

**Smeagol: No! pleassse! Nice reviewses for good authorses!**

**Gollum: Go away! We don't wants you here! We don't needs nasssssty reviwses! gollum! gollum!**

**Smeagol: Nice reader! Good reader! Kind Smeagol asks nicely for reviwses! Not rude and mean like nasssty Gollum!**

**Shoutouts:**

**AshelySciFigirl- Thank you again! I'm glad you liked Gloria/Glorfindel and the bit about Rohan. I agree, silly, silly Peter Jackson.**

**Jeremy- Thanks! **** Enjoy the new chapter**

**Merlyn2- You caught the Mitchell Andy/Mithrandir bit! I'm so glad, I wasn't sure if it was obvious enough **** hope you like the new chapter!**


	8. Keep Your Feet

**A/N: Yay! The end of the week! And another little entry from Sam's journal. Nothing too riveting, but I hope you will be entertained nonetheless**

**Disclaimer:**

**Gollum: No, nooo! They're back Precious! More nasssty readers sssticking their noesesss into our buisnessss! Reading plagiarized storieses about usss!**

**Smeagol: Not plagiarized! Just innocent ramblingses!**

**Gollum: No! Storieses plagiarized! Nassssty tricksssy author copiesss massster Tolkienses! Ruins nice Lord of the Ringses! **

**Smeagol: But this is the disclaimer! We tellses the nice readers here that good author doesn't own usss Precious!**

**Gollum: Nassty readerses! Why must they poke and prod into our buisnessss! It's our story! Ours!**

**Smeagol: Good, nice, kind readers not listen to tricksy Gollum! Authorsesss owns nothing, just writing nice, fanficses for nice readers!**

**Beyond-the-wit-of-man: Thank you Smeagol. Now on with the story!**

_Certainty? In this world nothing is certain but death and taxes._

_ -Ben Franklin_

**Keep your feet**

Sam's Journal, Entry Five

Ron Del's office was large, and bright, with one wall entirely of glass that was so clean, it almost seemed you could walk straight through it. Another two walls were covered almost completely in bookshelves that were crammed full with thousands of volumes in every shape and size imaginable. The final wall to the right of the door was half covered in an artificial waterfall that streamed down a large piece of greenish slate and fell into a long shallow basin of the same stone with a quiet, laughing tinkle.

Beside the waterfall, angled slightly so that its back was to the window, was a large wooden desk, covered in rows of neatly stacked files and books. Standing behind this desk, his back to us, was a tall, dark haired man in a tailored, expensive looking suit.

Slowly and deliberately, he turned to face us, a small, grave smile on his lips.

"Stride, how nice to see you alive. And you managed to keep the others in that state as well!" He cocked an eyebrow expressively, eyeing Merry and Pete, "A task which appears to have doubled since you set out. Your group has grown."

"Yes, sir. These are Fred and Sam's friends, Mr. Merrick Braddock and Mr. Peter Teek. They joined Fred and Sam before I did. I didn't think it was safe to send them back alone."

"You were most likely right, if the attack on you at Weather Street is any indication." Ron nodded.

Stride's face darkened. "It's a good thing Gloria got there when she did."

"It is indeed."

"But she ran into trouble on the way here?"

"Yes."

Stride shook his head, a small grin twitching his lips. "A tunnel Ron. You blew up a whole tunnel. Were the fireworks really necessary to get her out of there?"

Ron shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. I would prefer not to take chances where that Ring is involved." Then he smiled widely. "Besides, Eliot and Elis were rather insistent on the explosion front."

"Eliot and Elis." Stride shook his head. "One day those two will get themselves into real trouble."

Ron laughed, then strode over to us, embracing Stride. "Be that as it may, we are safe for now, thank the gods. And the Ring is secure, at least for a while."

Stride suddenly stepped back, scanning the other man's face. "For now?" he said questioningly. "What do you mean?"

Ron's smile sobered. "Later, Stride. For now, you all have rooms prepared for you. You need a rest, and some food I'll bet." He turned to my friends and I, "And as soon as Fred is well enough, I will send for someone to take you to him."

"Thank you sir, Mr. Del." I said earnestly.

"My pleasure Samantha." He held out his hand and we shook. "I'm glad to meet you."

"Same, sir."

He looked over at Stride. "Have you heard anything more from Faldang lately?"

"No, nothing since his message about Fred and Sam."

I thought I saw a glint of worry in Ron's eyes, and his arching brows knitted thoughtfully. "That… well, I suppose I shouldn't worry. Faldang always has been able to take care of himself." He pulled his phone from a pocket and hit a number.

"Isabel? Could you send someone up to show our guests to their rooms? What? Faldang?" his expression lightened, " Send him straight up. Thank you Isabel."

He turned to us smiling. "Faldang is on his way up."

"Really?" Pete gulped and glanced at Merry. I suddenly remembered that they were only here because of a bug the two of them had planted on Fred's uncle.

At that moment, the door opened to reveal said uncle looking rather worn and windblown, with a few small cuts and scratches on his arms and face, but otherwise intact.

He looked at Stride, and a smile lit his face. "Stride, my dear fellow! I assume…" he suddenly spotted Merry, Pete, and myself, and the smile dropped. "Where is Fred?" he asked, a hint of something close to panic edging into his tone.

"Not to worry, Faldang." Said Ron. "He's here, but with my doctors. He took a bullet to the shoulder along the way. He should be fine though."

The color drained from Faldang's face, but his eyes were piercing as he scanned Ron's face for any other hint as to Fred's condition. Finally, he announced, "I'm going to see him."

He turned and walked swiftly back towards the door. Ron started, as if to stop him, then paused, and a look of understanding came over his face. "Alright, then. Just a moment, let me call down to tell them to let you in."

"Wait!" I cried, "Me too!"

"Sam," Faldang said quickly, "You..."

"No. I want to see him too. Just quickly, please, sir?" I stared pleadingly at him.

Faldang looked up at Ron, who nodded slowly. "Very well, but no one else." He looked pointedly at Pete and Merry who had both already opened their mouths to protest. "You may both see him in a little while, but for now you should rest, and eat something."

Pete nodded immediately. "Good, I'm starving!"

Merry just sighed in resignation.

Ron spoke quickly into his phone, then snapped it shut and nodded at Faldang and me.

"You're clear. I trust you remember where you're going Faldang?"

"Vividly." Faldang said wryly, and I sensed there was a story here that I might, or might not want to know. But that didn't matter right now, what mattered was that I was about to see Fred. It might only have been a few hours since he was whisked away by Gloria, but it seemed like years. I tried futilely once more to block out the memories of blood as I hurriedly followed Faldang out the door and into the elevator.

He jabbed one of the buttons fiercely, that looked at me. "How long ago did you and Fred get here?" he asked without preamble.

"On, no, we didn't get here together, Mr. Faldang. After Fred was shot someone Mr. Del had sent showed up and took him. She said she could get him here more quickly than Stride could've."

"And what was her name?"

"Gloria sir. I think Stride knew her."

"Gloria." Faldang's face relaxed a bit. "Yes, yes Stride does know her."

The doors slid apart, and without another word, Faldang hurried out into the hallway, while I followed close behind, jogging a bit to keep up with his hurried pace.

A few doors down, Faldang halted and rapped once sharply on the thick, blonde wood.

The door swung open, and a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair and a permanently hassled air about him beckoned us in with a "This way, this way Mr. Faldang, Ms…"

"Gages." I said distractedly, craning my head around to try to find a sign of Fred.

"Ms. Gages then. This way, this way!"

We followed him down a short hall to an unmarked door, which he opened with twitching fingers, ushering us inside. "Only five minutes. He needs to recover. And please, don't wake him up!"

"Yes, yes, very well. Thank you Addams." Nodded Faldang, as he passed through the doorway. I smiled quickly at the man, Addams, then hurried after him.

The room was dim, dry, cool, and smelled like any other hospital room in the world, a stale, sharp, chemical scent. In the center, on bed made up with pristine white sheets, tubes and steadily beeping monitors surrounding him, lay Fred. His cheeks and lips were white, his closed eyelids sallow, and almost transparent. His hands lay pale against the bedclothes, curled slightly, and completely still. But for the slight rise and fall of his chest, he could have been a corpse lying there, utterly unseeing, unfeeling.

I walked hesitantly to his side, Faldang stepping over to allow me closer. Slowly, gently, I took Fed's hand in mine. It was cold, and unmoving, but beneath the icy skin, I could feel the slight, steady pulse of a heartbeat.

I sighed in relief, and a single tear slid down my cheek. He wasn't better yet, not by a long shot, but now at least, I had seen with my own eyes, and felt with my own hands that he was alive. Soon, we would be going home.

I saw a bit of leather cord peeking out of the collar of the hospital robe they had put him in, and hesitantly, wondering if Faldang was about to stop me, drew it out. From it, dangled the glimmering golden Ring that we had risked so much to get here. They hadn't taken it from him. I wondered why. Wouldn't it be safer if they took it as son as possible? Shrugging internally, I tucked the Ring back under the robe, for some reason being careful to avoid contact with the shining metal.

Looking up, I saw that Faldang was watching me carefully, not with concern, but there was still something guarded in is gaze. I swallowed, and managed a smile.

"Well, I guess he's okay." I said, trying to sound cheerful.

He nodded "It would appear so. Gloria did a fine job of getting him here in time. But, I' afraid our allowed time grows short, Addams will undoubtedly be back soon to shoo us away like flies." He smiled at me, but only with his lips.

For a moment, I wanted to object. Now that I had seen Fred, I didn't want to leave. As irrational as it might be, I was terrified that if I left, something might happen to him. However, I could see that arguing for more time would be useless, so I followed Faldang back out of the room, thanked Addams for letting us in as I passed him, and continued on into the hallway.

Faldang remained, quiet and thoughtful as we walked, a slight frown etched across his features. I decided not to try and break the silence. Now that I had seen Fred, I suddenly realized of very tired and dirty and hungry I was. At the moment, all I wanted was a hot shower, food, and a place to sleep.

As we neared the elevator, I saw a young woman in plain, but fashionable clothes, who appeared to be waiting for us.

"Samantha Gages?" She smiled at me?

I nodded, "Yes ma'am."

"Call me Kat. I was sent to show you to your room." Her voice was warm and friendly, and with her dark hair and smiling almond shaped eyes, she didn't look muck like a CIA operative, except for the small bulge under her denim jacket that in every spy/mystery/action movie I had ever seen, indicated that there was a gun hidden there.

I smiled again. "That would be wonderful, thank you, Kat."

She gestured for me to follow her, and then led me up a flight of stairs, around a few corners, and finally stopped in front one of the doors that punctuated the walls every several yards.

Typing a few numbers into the keypad beside the warm yellow painted doorframe, she looked back at me and said, "The access code for you door is 0703, if you forget it, just ask for me at the front desk, alright?"

"Okay, thanks." I replied.

The door swung open and she stepped aside to allow me in. "Your friends have the room next door. We will send a meal up for you at five o'clock. Would you like to eat alone, or should I have it sent to the boy's room?"

"I'd like to eat with my friends, please."

"Of course. In the meantime, fell free to do what you like, just, stay on this floor, okay? And try not to worry, hold in there and stay on your feet. Your friend Fred will be fine."

I smiled once more, thanked her, and then watched as she shut the door softly behind her.

My room was smallish, but clean and well furnished, with a large, welcoming looking bed, a dresser, and a well-stocked bookshelf. A large window overlooked the bustling city, and a plain wooden door to my left entered into the bathroom.

Immediately, I dropped my bag on the smooth cherry wood floor, stopping only to grab one of the few extra changes of clothes I had packed and, more grateful than I had ever before been for the invention of the shower, went to wash the grime and sweat and general disgustingness from myself.

After the shower, I dried myself with one of the many fluffy towels I had been given, dressed in the dark jeans and navy fitted t-shirt, ran a brush through my hair, and then went back into the bedroom and collapsed on the soft mattress. I had expected to be unable to sleep from worry, and the awful, still vivid memories, but my body had other ideas. My eyelids closed almost the moment my head hit the pillow, and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

As I drifted off, the only though in my mind was, _Soon, soon I'll be headed home. _Yes, soon everything would be back to normal.

I was certain of it.

_**In the beginning, the Valar created Ea through music, and within Ea, they placed Arda, in which Middle-earth dwells. And through their songs, they created all things good and evil. And they gave to the peoples of earth many gifts, but the greatest gift of all was given to the small race who called themselves the 'Fan Fiction Writers,' and that gift became known as the Review.**_

**Shout-outs:**

** Jeremy- Glad you enjoyed Gollum/Smeagol! I rather liked working with him, so, I thing he may be doing most of my disclaimers from now on **

** Merlyn2-Thanks for the bit about the typos, I think I found all the ones in this chapter**** Hope you like it!**


	9. Hidden Paths

**A/N: Well, not much to say here. A bit more from River Tower, the last chapter for a long long long while that will take place there. Sam is very kindly narrating this one for me. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: **_**And though the Fan Fiction Writers were given the gift of the Review by the Valar, they were also cursed with the Disclaimer, a vile reminder that they were not the genius who had so perfectly woven together the stories of Middle earth. **_

_I busted a mirror and got seven years bad luck, but my lawyer thinks he can get me five._

_-Steven Wright_

**Hidden Paths**

Sam's Journal, Entry Six

Days passed quickly at River Tower. I tried to spend as much time as I could watching over Fred, but more often than not, Addams shooed me away after a half an hour or so. In the time that I wasn't with my healing friend, I hung out with Pete and Merry, or talked with Kat, or just read in my room or in one of the many libraries throughout the tower.

The day after our arrival, while browsing the shelves of one of these rooms, I heard a small cough behind me, and turned to see none other than Billy Baggs standing in the doorway.

I dropped the volume I had been holding, and flew across the room to hug him.

"Billy!" I wrapped my arms tightly around him, then stepped back, surveying him at arm's length. "What on earth are you doing here?"

He gave me a smile. "I came to stay with some friends for a while."

I shook my head. "This is where you ran off to? Billy, why didn't you tell Fred?"

He looked sheepishly at the floor. "I-I meant to… but well, there wasn't… I mean, I couldn't… well, it just never seemed…right?" he finished lamely, making the last word more of a question then a statement. "I mean, he did know I was leaving, but not… I never told him when. I don't think he expected it to be so soon, if ever. The boy knows me too well to be sure I'll stick to the plans I make."

"But he was worried!"

"I know, I'm, well, I don't suppose it will do much good, but, I'm sorry. Really, I am.

I wasn't sure I could forgive him for running off just yet, but still, he did seem genuinely sorry. I decided I could give it time, and changed the subject.

A couple of times, Stride tried to give me lessons with a knife or a gun, but I was fairly hopeless, and most of the time, I ended up sitting on the sidelines laughing with Stride's girlfriend, Aria, as the two of us watched Stride attempt to teach Merry and Pete, while making sure that no one lost an eye. Or worse.

Sometimes, I worried a bit about home, and how my dad was doing, but the concern always passed quickly, and I would find some way to occupy myself.

Fred was mending, although Addams always seemed to think he was at death's door, and there was hope that it would be only a week or two until he was well enough to travel. The wound had closed, and although Ron told us that there would always be a scar, and a bit of unhealed internal injury, our friend would be quite the same as always.

Finally, on a day a little while after our arrival, I entered Fred's room to see him awake, and talking with Faldang.

"Fred!" I yelled, and, without thinking, rushed over and threw my arms around his neck.

"Ouch!" he muttered, but hugged me back.

"Oops, sorry." I backed away a bit. "How're you feeling?"

"Okay." He shrugged, and then winced. "My shoulder twinges a bit, but other then that I'm alright."

I had seen the flicker of pain in his face as he shifted his weight, and wasn't sure he was being completely honest, but decided to let it slip.

"Why didn't anyone tell me you were awake?" I asked, a little miffed.

"Because I've only been conscious for about five minutes?"

"Oh, okay then." I turned to Faldang. "When will he be able to be on his feet again?"

"A few more days, I would guess." Faldang said, "Although, with Addams around, it might take a bit longer." He smiled a little ruefully.

At that moment, the bustling doctor himself scurried into the room, and seeing Fred wide eyed and alert, hurried Faldang and myself out of the room with an

"Oh, wonderful, wonderful! You've woken him up I see! Out! He needs rest. No more visits today! You can see him tomorrow after he's had some sleep!"

Personally, I thought that, considering he had just been unconscious for several days, he was probably rested enough to carry on more than three minutes conversation, but, having had some experience with Addams by that point, I knew that protest would be pointless. Instead of arguing, I rushed off to find Merry and Pete and tell them the good news.

When I finally found them in the large gym that rather resembled an armory, and told them that Fred was up, they both dropped the blunt knives they had been circling each other with, and immediately began discussing methods of getting past Addams to see him.

I left them to their planning, and went to my room to start packing up a bit. If, as Faldang had said, Fred would be up in a few days, then it couldn't hurt to be prepared to leave.

I was right, in a way.

Four days later, Addams finally allowed Fred out of the confines of his room, and back into the world of the living. Along with Merry and Pete, I spent the day showing him around the tower, and chatting about our adventure on the way. Fred seemed to be functioning well for someone who had recently received a bullet wound, although I saw him wince in pain more than once.

As we turned a corner and headed back towards the boy's rooms for dinner, a door to our right opened, and Billy stuck his head out.

"Fred, my boy!" he smiled jovially, "They've finally released you!"

"Yup, Addams finally gave in." Fred grinned back.

"I was wondering, could you spare a moment?" Billy asked, and I could hear the faintest bit of caution creep into his tone.

"Sure Billy." He answered without hesitation. "You guys go on. I'll be with you in a second." And with a final smile in our direction, he followed Billy into the room.

We looked at each other, and shrugged.

"Come on guys!" Pete took off down the hall, "I'm starving, and I heard there's lasagna for dinner tonight!"

Merry hurried after him, and I jogged to keep up, rather hungry myself.

A few minutes after we had settled down around the small table in their room, digging into the steaming plates of food that had been brought up for us, the door swung open, and Fred came in sniffing at the air.

"That lasagna?" he asked, with a longing expression.

I laughed. "Yup, if you hurry, you may be able to eat some before these two scarf it all down."

"'ey!" Merry protested around a mouthful of lasagna, "'m nt scrfflg!"

"What?" I smirked.

Merry swallowed quickly, almost choking "I am not scarfing!' he said defensively.

Fred and I snorted in unison, and Fred sat down, helping himself to the meal.

"So, what did Billy want to talk to you about?" I asked conversationally.

He shrugged. "Nothing, just saying hi, glad I'm out of Addam's clutches, all that sort of thing."

For a moment, I though I saw something else flit across his features, and his hand moved toward the ring around his neck, but then his face was back to normal, and the hand changed course, grasping his fork instead.

"Oh, and he said that there's going to be some sort of meeting about the Ring tomorrow. Apparently I have to go to it. Seven in the morning in Ron's office, so I guess that means I actually have to get up tomorrow."

Pete looked up sharply. "Hey! What about us! We helped get the ring here too!"

"Yeah! They can't just leave us out!" Merry nodded emphatically.

"Yeah, but Fred was the one who carried it." I said quickly, hoping to avoid an argument, although personally, I couldn't help but agree with them inwardly.

"Still, it's not fair." Pete pouted a little.

"No, I guess not." I agreed, "But if you want to be the one to go to Mr. Del or Faldang and tell them that, then be my guest."

"Well, you'll at least tell us everything, won't you?" Pete looked confidently at Fred.

"Of course." Fred nodded.

"And then we'll be headed home!" I put in happily.

"Oh, yeah, right." Fred said, almost looking surprised, and even a bit doubtful. "Home…"

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"No come on, really, what?"

"I dunno." His forehead furrowed. "It's just, well, I guess I hadn't really thought about… " His expression suddenly cleared a little. "You know what? Never mind, your right, pretty soon we'll be home."

I looked at him questioningly, but he ignored the glance, and pushed his now empty plate away. He stood up, and yawned, "I think I'm going to get some sleep."

"I think I'll leave too." I said.

"Alright, Merry, feel like a couple rounds of Mario Cart?" Pete asked cheerfully."

"Sure!" Merry agreed enthusiastically.

Fred and I said our goodbyes, and left as the others took off towards the TV.

Once outside, I turned to Fred. "Okay, now, what's wrong."

He shook his head. "I don't know, Sam. It's just… I don't know, a weird feeling." His hand stole towards the Ring again, and he jerked it away quickly. "Probably just the painkillers Addams has me on."

"Probably." I said, not convinced.

His eyes softened. "Don't worry Sam, soon we'll be home, and we'll have our own cool adventure story like in the books and movies, complete with firefights and spies."

I smiled back. "Yeah, I guess we will."

He hugged me. "Good night, Sam. I'll see you tomorrow after the meeting."

"G'night Fred."

Then I went into my room, pulled on my PJs, and curled up with one of the books from the shelf, wondering what exactly would happen at the meeting tomorrow, and wishing I could be there to see it first hand.

The next morning, at exactly 4:30am, my wish was granted, as I woke up to being pounded repeatedly over the head with a pillow.

"Hey! Wh…" my words were smothered as said pillow was smashed over my face.

"Shhh, it's us!" Pete's voice came from somewhere by my feet.

I shoved the pillow away, and reached over, flicking on the light. "Pete? Merry? What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed.

"Hey! Be nice, we're doing you a favor here." Merry whispered.

"What favor, Merrick?" I snapped quietly, "Since when is waking me up by bashing me with a pillow at some godforsaken hour of the morning a favor?" I rolled over, looked at the clock, and groaned.

"The first reason we had to wake you up now is thatthis is the only time we can be sure we won't be overheard, even if we did debug both our rooms first." Said Pete, a touch of pride in his voice.

"And why, may I ask, do you not want to be overheard?"

"Because what we came to tell you is, we found a way of eavesdropping on the meeting today."

I sat up straight. "Really?"

"Yup." Merry grinned smugly.

"How?"

"Well, last night after you left, we were trying to figure out some way of getting in there, but there isn't even an air duct that we can listen through. So then, We remembered the whole crawling through ceiling things that spies always seem to do, and, luckily, the ceiling in there is perfect, all we have to do is sneak up through one of the panels in one of the rooms on that floor, and crawl over to above the office. Piece of cake!"

"And how do you propose to get up there without anyone noticing?"

"That's the second reason we got you up at four-thirty in the morning."

I groaned again.

Five minutes later, having quickly dressed and met the boys outside their room, I crept quietly down the hall after Merry, who kept slowing down, speeding up, and zigzagging, as he avoided the beams of the CCTV cameras, which methodically swept over the hall. We were fairly sure that any security guard would be either asleep, or far to tired to be paying close attention to cameras monitoring such an innocent area of the tower, but still, it didn't hurt to be cautious.

We took the stairs up to the thirtieth floor, afraid that taking the elevator was bound to alert someone, and crept down the hall. Merry ducked into an alcove to the side, and looked up. "I think we can get up here." He whispered.

Pete and I joined him, and Pete nodded. "I'll bet we can reach the ceiling from that windowsill."

"Exactly." Merry agreed, hopping quickly onto said sill, and balancing himself against the window with one hand, reached up and pushed against a plaster panel of the ceiling with the other. The section gave way, and, with a final shove, it slid to one side. Merry grabbed onto the edge of the hole, and with an effort, hauled himself up through.

"It's not as easy as it looks in the movies." He muttered, as Pete smothered a chuckle.

Pete went next, swinging himself up a bit more gracefully, and then it was my turn.

I balanced myself on the sill, grasped the sharp edge of the hole, and, with graceful skill worthy of an Olympic gymnast, managed to half drag, half squirm my way through, into a dusty, cobweb filled, cave-like space, with barely enough room to crouch in.

I tried not to cough, pushed the tile almost back into place, leaving just enough of a crack that we would be able to pry it back up when we needed to get out again, and followed the others as they crawled towards Ron Del's office.

When we had located approximately the right area, we settled down to wait. The gap between the floor and the ceiling had widened quite a bit here, and we found relatively comfortable perches on the rafters and beams that created a tangled maze all around us. After a quarter of an hour, I began to realize that, although four-thirty in the morning might mean no one around to see us sneaking through the halls, it also meant that it would be a good long while of waiting for us.

For a bit, we whispered quietly, speculating on what would be said at the meeting, periodically, checking the glowing face of Merry's watch, and munching on the granola bars that Pete had dug up from somewhere. After about an hour though, conversation died, and we sat in bored, and increasingly restless silence.

As the minutes ticked by, and more and more sounds of life were heard below us, the nervous feeling that we might be caught, and the irritated impatience of waiting rose in a slow crescendo, until finally, just as I felt I would explode with boredom, impatience, and claustrophobia, there was the click and creak of a door below us opening.

We were all immediately alert, as the murmur of apprehensive voices rose up and filled the dusty, stale air.

The indistinguishable mutterings continued for a few minutes, and I was beginning to grow impatient again, when Ron Del's Voice cut through the garbled voices.

"Please, everyone, take a seat."

There was the scraping of chairs being dragged out, and the cacophony of voices died.

"Thank you all for coming here for such a vague reason. I'm afraid that the lack of information in the invitation was important, as we couldn't run the risk of the real reason for this meeting falling into the wrong hands."

There was a ripple of hushed voices.

"Fred," Ron's voice was grave, "the Ring."

The ripple grew into a wave, as cries and exclamations rang through the room.

"As you can see," Ron continued, raising his voice above the shouts, "We have, after many years of trying, located Sarn's Ring."

The wave became a tsunami of noise.

"This," Ron was practically shouting now, "is an event which, I am sure you will agree, requires immediate attention. Our plans about the Ring, thus far, have been hazy, and it has recently been brought to my attention that Sarn may be in the midst of planning something, perhaps even mustering an army. If there is even the faintest possibility that this is true, we cannot be sure that the Ring will be safe here."

Uneasy mutters now.

"Not only that, but we cannot be sure it will be safe anywhere. Leonard here has just informed me that a prisoner he and his people had been keeping for us, one who knew the approximate location of the Ring, and who is also desperate to find it, has escaped, giving us one more enemy to contend with. This same prisoner, before we came into custody of him, was a captive of Sarn, and, without a doubt told his captor as much as he knew about the Ring. Therefore, Sarn is once again looking for it, his efforts redoubled. So, I ask you, what do we do now?"

The tsunami was back, the voices climbed higher and louder, as each person tried to make his or her opinion heard.

"Please! Ladies, gentlemen, quiet!"

Slowly, the tsunami sunk back into quiet, and Ron spoke again.

"Bear Stewardson, what do you say?"

A deep, ringing voice spoke. "Why not use it? If Sarn is gathering an army, the only way to take him down might be to use the Ring. At the very least, it would give our people more than a fighting chance!"

"We can't do that!" another voice chimed in, "It would be stupid to say the least. We all know that the temptation would end up being too much. We might start out meaning well, but once Sarn was gone, with that much power in our hands, where would we stop?"

A third voice, a woman's, spoke up. "But Leonard, what else can we do?"

"Vhatever it is, we need to move quickly." This time the voice was low, and gravelly, with a slight German accent. "Just a veek ago, Sarn sent someone to us, asking vor an alliance. Ve sent him away without a definite answer, but he vill be back, I am sure."

"It could be destroyed." Silence filled the room as Stride spoke.

"We've all heard Faldang's theory about that magnetic mountain before, Stride." The man with the deep voice, Bear said finally. "But even if destroying the Ring is the best thing to do, how do we know for sure that tossing it into Mt. Jishaku will destroy the program encoded in it?"

"It will work." That was Ron again. "Faldang presented that theory to me many years ago. I've had more than ample time to think it over, I'm positive he is correct."

Bear snorted, but quietly.

"I say we destroy it." This was a new voice with a heavy Italian accent.

"I agree." The woman put in.

"Very well." Ron said. "We will put it to a vote. Who says the Ring should be destroyed?"

There was a chorus of 'Aye's, and then a silence that seemed to stretch on forever. At length, Ron cleared his throat, and I could practically feel him bracing himself for what came next.

"Very well, it is a majority, and now we must decide, who will take the Ring to Japan?"

Dead silence. I thought I heard a pin drop somewhere down on the first floor.

Then, there was a sudden explosion of noise. People talking, people shouting, arguing, yelling, it carried on and on until, in the midst of the chaos, I heard a voice.

"I will take it."

Fred.

No.

The jumble of arguments continued, drowning him out.

"I will take it!" Louder now, the voice holding it's own among the others.

A few people stopped talking, and I could just picture them staring at my friend.

"I will take the Ring!"

This time, everyone heard, and the voices stopped dead.

He repeated himself more quietly.

"I will take the Ring."

I couldn't silence the sharp hiss of my gasp.

No, Fred, please no.

"Very well." Ron said at length, and I could hear something sharp, and pained in his voice. "Will anyone accompany Fred?"

"I will go." Faldang said finally, a reflection of the pain in Ron's voice in his tone.

"And I will too." That was Stride.

"If the Ring is going to be destroyed, than I will do anything I can to help." The voice that the woman had called Leonard said quietly.

"I vill go." The gravelly voice added.

"And I will come too." Bear proclaimed.

"No one else?" Ron asked.

Wait! What about me? Fred couldn't go off on his own! Who was supposed to keep him from getting into too much trouble? Besides which, no way was he going to continue this story without me. It wouldn't be fair! Not fair at all!

I didn't even notice that my death grip on the beam I was sitting on had slipped, until I was falling, falling, falling…

I crashed through the plaster of the ceiling. It might have been strong enough to hold us crawling slowly over it, but my hundred odd pounds falling on it from a few feet up was too much, and I tumbled to the floor of the office in a cloud of dust and broken ceiling.

I didn't have time to worry about the bruises though, there were more pressing matters at hand.

"Wait!" I cried, as everyone gaped at me, "I'm going with Fred too!"

For a moment, Ron just stared, then a small smile forced his lips into a curve. "Yes, yes I suppose you are."

Suddenly, there was another thud, and I turned to see first Pete, then Merry drop through the hole I had left in the ceiling.

"Us too!" Pete scampered over to me, with Merry close at his heels.

Ron sighed, but his smiled still didn't quite fade, as much as he tried to conceal it. "Very well, Peter, Merrick."

"Yes!" Merry crowed.

"Ron…"

"No Faldang, they will go too, I don't think, anything short of tying them up with duct tape and sending them back under armed escort will stop them, and frankly, that would be far to much trouble.

"Trouble." I heard Faldang mutter. "Yes, trouble is a very apt word."

**Gollum: Yes, my preciousss, they go now! The nasssty readersesss leavesss usss!**

**Smeagol: No no no! not leavess yet! Musssst give nice reviewses for author!**

**Gollum: No reviewses! We hatessss them! Hatessss! No rewiewses for sneaky, trickssy author!**

**Smeagol: Yess reviewses! Pleassse? Nice reviewses for good, kind author?**

**Shoutouts: **

**Jeremy- thank you**** enjoy the chapter!**

**Merlyn2- sorry, I should have made this clearer, but I think I sort of got it sorted out with this chapter. No, Gloria is just Glorfindel. Arwen is Aria, but she's not to big a character just yet. And yes, Eliot and Elis are Elladan and Elrohir, I'm glad they were recognizable enough! **

**Daisymall13- Yes different is certainly one word to describe it… ;-)**

**Hope you like the chapter!**

**AshleySciFigirl- hopefully the non-riveting-ness will be fixed soon! I have lots of more exciting stuff planned for the next few chapters: Explosions, firefights, narrow escapes… good stuff **


	10. Home is Behind

**A/N: Smeagol- Author is sorry, sorry, sorry for loooong delayses. Poor Smeagol apologizessss for late updateses.**

** Gollum- We isss not sssorry! Author should not have come back! Nasssty, Tricksssy sslimy Author! Sscourge on the preciousssss Lord of the Ringsessss!**

** Smeagol- No! kind readerssss not listensesss to mean Gollum. We isss sorry, we swearssss it on the preciousssss! Author had writerssss blocksesss!**

**Disclaimer: *****sigh***** Honestly, must we go through this every time? I don't own anything to do with LOTR.**

_Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative._

___-Oscar Wild_

**Home is Behind**

Sam's Journal, Entry Seven

And so that was it.

We were going.

It was kind of surreal actually. Here I was on the brink of a quest to save the world from an evil maniac, just like in all the stories. It was something I had always dreamed of, picturing myself as the heroine of a great adventure.

I could say that I was excited about our departure; I could say that I couldn't wait to go and have a couple more fights with those black clad guys; I could say that nothing thrilled me more than the prospect of more shootings, and car chases and blood, but I would be lying. The truth was, I was terrified, terrified for myself, terrified for Fred, terrified for Merry, and for Pete, and Stride, and Faldang, and every one of the other people who were either brave or insane enough to agree to come.

At the same time though, it felt inevitable in a way. It was as though I had been expecting this all along, and just didn't realize it. Unfortunately, this didn't make me any less scared.

It was a week before we left, a week of packing and preparing, planning, and most of all, arguing. Tensions ran high, caused by a mixture of anxiety, stress, and uneasy anticipation. I had the constant sensation of being poised on the edge of a cliff, unable to run, knowing I was about to be pushed over the edge at any moment, incapable of saving myself, and just waiting for the fall, so terrified that, when the fall came, in the form of our departure, it was almost a relief in a twisted sort of way.

We left early in the morning, while fog still drifted in greasy wisps through the grey streets, stirring and parting around the feet and legs of the tired eyed, monotone suited men and women on their hurried way to work, as though the misty tendrils were alive, or perhaps, undead.

Stride and Faldang led the way, Leonard a step behind them, pointedly avoiding coming near the German man named Gerald, against whom he seemed to hold a grudge of some sort, and, if the deadly looks Gerald kept shooting his were any indication, the feeling was mutual. Next to Gerald, was Bear, a huge, blonde, Nordic looking man with eyes that were both quick to laugh, and quick to anger.

Merry and Pete walked with them, talking animatedly and asking the two men questions about who knew what at about a thousand words a minute. Fred and I brought up the rear, not talking much, but simply walking in companionable silence.

We were headed to JFK airport, planning on taking a plane from there, up to Quebec, and then another flight out of Canada and over to Europe, heading east toward Japan by whatever means were possible after that.

Bear had been against the plan, saying that we should take the Ring to D.C., where he worked as a liaison between the center of the government, and several of its outer branches, such as the CIA. His argument had been that he could arrange safe passage east from there, by calling in a few favors from fellow government officials. Stride had quickly shut this idea down, apparently mistrusting either Bear, or the government in general, it was impossible to tell which.

Faldang had sided with Stride, and it was decided, we would go by way of Quebec. There had been some argument about our means of travel as well. Gerald, who apparently had connections with several underground organizations, had suggested that we turn to one of these groups, and have them smuggle us into Canada. However, not many of us were partial to this idea, and so it was finally agreed upon that we would fly.

I clutched the American Airways one-way ticket in my pocket, and glanced nervously at the rooftops again. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of black. Then another over to my left. And another, and…

"Faldang!"

I tried not to shout to loudly, but the early morning emptiness of the air carried my voice well. Every head in our group turned to me.

"Faldang!" I ran up to him pointing at the rooftop to our left. "A bit of black, up there! I think it might have been one of those guys from the way here."

His head whipped around and he stared piercingly in the direction indicated.

There was another flicker of a dark figure in one of the windows of the building, and Faldang started visibly. "All of you, into the subway, quickly!" He almost shoved me in the direction of the entrance stairs. I grabbed Fred's arm for balance, as I stumbled, and then hurried him towards the steps. The nine of us clattered our way down the metal stairs and into the relatively safe eeriness of the tunnels. Or, rather, seven of us clattered, Merry and Pete hopped onto the railings and slid down the way we used to slide down the banisters at Baggs Manor when we were little.

My heart was pounding, a frantic, erratic patter that I was sure everyone for a mile around us could hear.

"What was that?" Fred asked, eyes wide.

"A few of Sebastian's spies." Faldang said darkly. "Let's hope they didn't see us."

Sebastian Kyler, that was the man who had taken Faldang prisoner and kept him from meeting with us sooner. Faldang had told us the story briefly when Fred had demanded an explanation for his absence.

"We have to move quickly." There was a calm quality about Leonard's voice that managed to work its way through my fear and allow me to think a bit more clearly.

"This way." Faldang swiped his pass and walked swiftly through the gate onto the platform. The eight of us followed suit, and no sooner were we through, then we were hurrying to one of the train cars and piling in. The sight of the fluorescent lights and orange plastic seats brought back the memories of Weather Street that I had managed to quell with relative success for the past few days. I swallowed the bile in my throat, and found a seat, trying to concentrate on calming my still pounding heart.

The subway ride was agony. At each stop I grew tense, expecting an enemy of some sort or other to enter the car, and every time the doors slid closed again, it only gave me another couple of minutes to worry about what might be waiting for us the next time they opened, or else to be concerned about Fred, whose hand periodically flew to his shoulder, covering the bullet wound, while he tried to hide the pain that burned in his eyes.

After an eternity of this, Faldang finally spoke for the first time since we had entered the train. "We'll get off at the next stop." He lowered his voice, although the only other people in the car were a couple of colorless, stone-faced men in neutral toned suits who were far to engrossed in papers or laptops to be paying any attention. "I want the four of you," he nodded at Fred, Merry, Pete, and me, "to stay close. We don't know who or what may be waiting for us when we get out of here.

I nodded mechanically, once again bracing myself for an attack as the doors slid open. When none came, I relaxed the tiniest bit, and followed the others out of the car, and into the terminal. A blast of cool, recycled air fluttered my hair into my eyes as I stepped onto the tiled floor of the airport. I clawed the strands out of my eyes, and looked anxiously about. A sign opposite us read:

**Welcome to Caradris Terminal JFK**

Please report unattended luggage.

All passengers may be subject to random searches.

Lines of people waiting to check their bags wound through the mazes of dark grey barriers, talking loudly enough to nearly drown out the clatter of wheeled suitcases and roaring plane engines. The stale, processed smells of airport food and filtered air swirled around us in the drafts of the ever-moving rotating doors.

I felt someone tug my sleeve, and I lashed out at the person, only to find my wrist caught in Gerald's firm grasp. "No daydreaming." He whispered, "Ve almost left you behind." I looked over to see that the rest of our group was already several yards away, heading steadily right.

"Thanks" I whispered back, smiling a bit sheepishly.

"Not a problem."

We caught up with the others, and I once again situated myself close enough to Fred to keep an eye on him. His lips were tight, and I could see he was trying not to show how much pain his shoulder was causing him. I was glad we had a plane ride ahead of us when he could rest and recover a bit. If he didn't heal soon, it would be hell getting him to Japan.

We approached the officer in charge of passport checking, and Faldang held out his papers carelessly to her. She took the passport, glanced at it, her hand already automatically moving to hand it back to him, when suddenly, she stopped, eyes narrowing as she stared at the picture, and the name under it.

In that moment, we all knew something was wrong. Bear had already grabbed onto Fred and me, pushing us behind him, and slowly backing up. He hardly even needed Faldang's hiss of "Go!" before he was running, practically carrying us toward the nearest exit. I could see Stride dragging Pete and Merry along just behind us. Leonard was somehow already at the door, holding it open as we barreled through.

We had jut reached the sidewalk when the alarms began to blare. Gerald flung open the door of a limo idling by the curb, and dragged the driver out. I only had time to see the befuddled looking man land heavily on the cement before Bear shoved me into the limo alongside Fred and helped the others pile in after us. No sooner had the last of our group flung themselves inside, then Gerald hit the gas, and we screeched away, the sirens and alarm bells blaring behind us.

"What… was… that?" Pete panted in between gasps.

"Sebastian's spies must have seen us." Faldang growled. "He has people everywhere. It would have been small work for him to have a couple of agents in the airport on the lookout for us once he knew where we were headed. No doubt that woman was told to have me taken into custody along with anyone traveling with me."

"So where now?" I asked.

"D.C." Bear said firmly. "It's the only way left to us."

Gerald took a sharp corner and we all flew left. "No." He shook his head, gritting his teeth as he swerved to miss a bus barreling down on us. "Ve can still go through more… unconventional routes. It vill take no more than fifteen minutes for a few of my Mafia friends to get here. They can get us safely into Canada."

"I dislike the idea of asking for help from criminals." Faldang shook his head.

Stride frowned. "I will not have the Ring come close to the Capital. We should take Gerald's suggestion.

"And trust murderers and thugs?" Leonard shook his head and looked at Gerald with distaste.

"I've know murderers more honorable that you intelligence agency people." Gerald growled, grasping the wheel tight enough to put dents in it.

"Enough you two." Faldang barked. "Perhaps Fred can decide, as the Ring is his burden." He turned to look at Fred, eyes sharp, but questioning.

We all stared at Fred for a long moment. All except Gerald that is, who was busy trying to lose a cop close on our tail.

"Gerald," Fred said finally, "Call you're friends."

Faldang's face darkened, and Bear swore under his breath. Gerald however, merely took another hairpin bend, pulling close enough to the building next to us to skim the paint off the car door, grabbed a phone out of his pocket with a cheerful "Very vell!" and hit a number on speed dial.

Behind us, the cop proved to be far less skilled than Gerald, clipping the front of the car against a wall. The back wheels of the blue and white vehicle spun out, and the police officer lost control of the wheel. The car swerved into the side of the building, and the front half crumpled in on itself. Gerald glanced back at the smoking wreck, nodded, and said into the phone, "Hey Gamer, have Bailey send someone over to the pick up zone vould you? I need tickets for nine up to Canada…Yes, I did say nine… Good. I vill be there."

He looked back at us, and put the pedal down again, heading off in another direction. "Ve're in." he grinned.

**Smeagol-reviewsesss? Pleasssse? Nice reviewses to make update come quicker?**

**Gollum- No precioussss no updatesssssesss! No reviewses! We hatesss them, precioussss! Hatessssss! **

**Smeagol- Gollum isss bad! Gollum doesss not like Author! Nice, kind readerssessss pay no attention to nasssty Gollum!**

**Shoutouts:**

**Sorry, sorry, sorry, but I have a class I have to get to, and I want to post this as soon as possible, so no shoutouts this time. Forgive me? Pleeeaaasse?**


	11. Shadow and Flame

**A/N: Wow, almost done with Fellowship! Just Lorien and Amon Hen left! Oh, and one hint about this chapter. When Faldang tries to find the password, it may be amusing to go back and look at what the real Gandalf says in the book ;-) **

**Disclaimer:**

**Gollum: They hasss come back! Wicked tricksy readers hasssss come backsesss precioussss! They hassss come back to readssessss the nasssty, falsssse story!**

**Smeagol: No! niccce storiesessss! Not do any harm.**

**Gollum: Yesss precioussss, tricksssy and falsssse! Gollum, gollum. Author will betray you, cheat you! Yesss, yess she will preciousssss!**

**Smeagol: Author isss our friend! Author looksss after usss!**

**Gollum: You hassss no friends! And Author iss a lying sssneaky, wicked trickssssy author. She breaksesss copyright lawsses she doessss!**

**Smeagol: No, no! author breakssssesss no copyright lawsss! Not pretendsesss to own anything preciousss!**

_Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die._

_ Mel Brooks_

**Shadow and Flame**

Sam's Journal, Entry Eight

Gerald pulled the limo up in front of an old, tired looking warehouse, and cautiously, we climbed out. I looked around nervously, wondering where these 'friends' of his were. He beckoned to us, and we followed him around the corner making as little noise as possible. We found ourselves in a dingy alleyway where two imposing looking men waited to greet us.

Actually, greet wasn't quite the right word. Maybe glower menacingly would do them a bit more justice. The slightly smaller of the two stepped forward a little, and beckoned Gerald forward.

"Stonevall, it is good to see you again." Gerald greeted the mountain of a man.

Stonewall put his finger to his lips, and looked around, alarmed. "Quiet!" his voice was low, but sharp. "And don't you come a step closer until you give us the password!"

"Passvord?" Gerald looked surprised.

"Yeah, the _password."_ The other thug said, his tone suggesting a silent_ you idiot _tacked to the end.

"I… I have never been asked for a passvord before!" Gerald said indignantly.

"Things've changed." Growled Stonewall. "Mora don't exist no more, not the way you know it."

"Mora… doesn't exist?"

"Nah, they got too bold. Started some arms trafficking in the Gremlin territory, an' them Gremlins didn't take too kindly to it. It weren't a week 'afore war broke out, and not a week more 'afore there weren't no one but us, an' a few others who'd run off, left alive from the Mora clan."

"Gamer said nothing about this on the phone!"

"The sen'imen'al git thought you should be told face to face, Bailey bein' your cousin an' all." Muttered Stonewall.

"Bailey…? He isn't… not…."

"Dead." Grunted thug number two.

"No!" Gerald's cry tore through the chilly air, and echoed through the alley.

Thug number two clapped a hand over his mouth, barely stifling the shriek.

"Not now!" He hissed. "Mora don't 'ave no control 'ere no more. This is Gremlin territ'ry now, and if they find us 'ere…"

"Right!" Faldang strode forward. "Let's go then. You can still get us up to Canada?"

"Once you give us the password, we can get you to the flippin' moon if that's what you need. But quick! It ain't safe 'ere. Say the password, friends."

Gerald looked desperately over at Faldang. "You haf spent time with these people Faldang. Do you know vhat their passvord might be?"

Faldang frowned for a minute "I used to know all the passwords of the Mora clan, yes. I doubt it can take more than a few tries for me to figure it out." Then he straightened and turned to Stonewall, and thug number two.

"Anon!" he said loudly. They shook their heads, and Faldang sighed, and tried again.

"Edward!" Another shake of their heads.

"Helen!" Again, no.

"Road!" Nope.

"Hill!"

"Amen!"

"Fennel!"

"Goth!"

"Rim!"

"Last!"

"Beth!"

"Lament!"

At each word, they shook their heads.

Faldang sighed, and sat down on one of the crates scattered around the alley.

"Doesn't he know it?" Whispered Pete.

Faldang glared at him, and he shut up.

We lapsed into a restless silence. Faldang murmuring quietly to himself, while the rest of us waited, or milled around anxiously.

The silence stretched on minute by minute, and the general tension grew. Merry and Pete started to throw pebbles against one of the metal trashcans that overflowed here and there around us, and Stride quickly dragged them away, reprimanding them quietly. Just when I was sure that we would have to find another way of getting to Canada, Faldang leapt up, and we all whipped around to see him smiling broadly.

"Of course!" he exclaimed. "You must think me an idiot." He grinned at Stonewall. "You told me the password yourself only a moment ago!"

For the first time, Stonewall smiled a bit. "I might've done."

"When you said 'say the password, friends', I should have heard 'say the password: friends!" Faldang shook his head. "I am an idiot." Then, slowly and clearly he said, "Friends!" And Stonewall and thug number two nodded, looking a little relieved.

"Now, quick all a yeh, this way." Thug number two jammed a key into one of the doors in the side of the wear house, and opened the creaky, rusty door.

Pete hurried forward, and stumbled, he flung his hand out for balance, and caught the edge of the trashcan he had been throwing stones at. The can wobbled, then overbalanced, and with an earsplitting crash, fell to the asphalt in a shower of refuse. No sooner did the echoing of the crash fade, than I heard the first gunshot.

Bear swore loudly, as we all dove behind crates, boxes, and other alleyway clutter. I found myself smashed between a dumpster, and the side of the warehouse, fumbling for the gun Stride had given me, and hoping desperately that it was loaded and working, as I cursed myself for not having spent more time with Stride working on my shooting skills, or lack thereof.

Our assailants descended on us quickly, wielding knives and guns with a sort of frantic jittery, excitement. They were shouting unintelligible ramblings to each other and at us, as they fired wildly and erratically. They stunk too, in their dirty, ripped jeans and old t-shirts that might once have been colored, but had now become the same mixture of brow, grey, and putty as their unwashed skin.

Odd thoughts tend to pass through your head when your life is in danger. As I inexpertly fired off round after round on my little handgun, I noticed that each of them had a drum tattooed onto his right bicep, and wondered vaguely why they had chosen this as their gang's mark. It seemed a bit random to me.

I jolted myself away from thoughts of tattoos. As I shot another round at one of the men who had been getting a bit to close, and realized that I had to get out of there. I must have been nearly out of ammunition by that time, and the gang members just seemed to keep coming. I crawled along the wall in the direction of the door that thug number two had opened, and saw Merry a few feet away, behind an old crate doing the same. Bear, Stride, and Gerald were at the door by now, keeping off the Gremlins, as Leonard and Pete dodged behind boxes, making their way down the alley towards us.

But where was Fred? I looked around frantically, and finally spotted him. He was the farthest from the doorway, huddled behind a garbage can as he tried to make his way towards us unnoticed. Suddenly, there was a man right in front of him, grinning evilly, a bloodstained knife raised in his hand. Without thinking, I swung my gun around and fired off three shots at the man. Two missed, but the third skimmed his thigh. He cried out, and pitched forwards, stabbing downwards with the knife.

The blade buried itself in Fred's chest.

Behind me, Stride did what I ha failed to do, his bullet flying cleanly into the man's head. Fred's murdered toppled over onto Fred, his blood soaking into Fred's clothing.

With a cry, Merry threw himself out from behind the crate, and let lose with his gun. Barely one of his shots missed, and Gremlins toppled all around. The rest of us joined him, and within fifteen seconds, our firing ceased. Dead gang members with tattooed arms were scattered around, and the asphalt was flowing with red.

I gave myself five seconds to be weak, and threw up.

Then, The shock of Fred's death hit me, and with a sob, I ran towards the place where he lay, buried under the dead Gremlin.

Faldang reached him first, and shoved the gangster's body aside.

Fred groaned, and opened his eyes.

He was alive! Mortally wounded no doubt, but alive. Then, he reached up with one hand, and yanked the knife out of his chest.

I gasped, but no blood flowed from the wound.

"What the…" Bear muttered."

With a sheepish smile, Fred tugged away the torn t-shirt, revealing a fitted, slightly padded looking vest-type thing. "Billy gave it to me." Me said quietly.

"Mitrale ceramic body armor." Gerald's eyes widened. "Mitrale Labs vas von of Mora's companies. Highest qvality body armor in the vorld."

Leonard nodded slowly. "It must be worth a fortune."

Luckily for Fred, who was looking slightly uncomfortable with all the attention, Faldang straightened up quickly. "We have to leave." He said urgently. "If any of our enemies got away, they may come back with reinforcements."

Stride helped Fred to his feet, and pulled t-shirt out of his pack to replace Fred's torn, bloody one.

Fred looked a little unsteady, but pulled on the shirt and stumbled along with us.

Only once we were inside the building, and the door had slammed shut behind us, did I realize that tears were rolling silently down my cheeks. Roughly, I whipped them away with my sleeve, and concentrated on what Stonewall was saying.

"In…" he glanced at a cracked, dirty watch on his wrist, "six minutes a truck is gunna pull up to the street over on that side of the warehouse." He pointed. "There ain't no doors over there 'cept one, 'an it's locked and blocked off. So 'stead a goin' out there, you gotta climbe up those stairs to the roof, 'an climb down the scaffoldin' to the street. Got it?"

Faldang nodded. "Will the driver of the truck need a password from us?"

"Same as you gave us: Friends." Thug number two grunted, "He'll get you outta here an' take ya straight up ta Quebec."

""Very well, thank you gentlemen," Faldang held out his hand, and shook both of theirs. "We'll be…" he suddenly stopped talking, and looked around. I heard it too, a sort of rhythmic thud coming from all around. Thug number two, Stonewall, Gerald, and Bear swore in unison, as, out of the shadows came about four or five dozen armed Gremlins, all shrieking and chattering.

"Run!" Yelled Faldang. Every one of us complied, dashing towards the staircase that led to the roof. It was only a few yards away, and we all made it there easily. It was odd though; the Gremlins didn't seem to be in that much of a hurry, as they drew towards the stairs, shrill cries reverberating around the cavernous warehouse.

Suddenly, the shouts ceased, and surprised, I looked down. The crowd of gangsters was parting, to allow one man carrying an odd, lumpy object through.

For a moment, I didn't understand, then I saw the luminous flickering numbers on the side of the object, and cursed.

It was a time bomb. A moment later, my thoughts were confirmed.

"A bomb!" I heard Faldang's shout. "Get to the roof, Fast!"

Again, we charged up the stairs, as the gangsters below us disappeared through the doors, locking and barring them, trapping us inside with a ticking time bomb.

We poured out onto the roof, and immediately, I spotted the scaffolding directly across from us. I ran toward it, but behind me, Stride shouted "No time!" I looked back, and saw him pointing to the yellow plastic, slide-like shaft that construction workers used to dump debris down into a dumpster below. I knew immediately what he was thinking, and also knew immediately that he was insane. The shaft was nearly vertical, and the warehouse roof at least forty feet from the ground. On the other hand, the scaffolding would take a while to climb down, and I had no idea when the bomb below us would blow.

There was no time to think, or to rationalize. Already, Gerald was climbing into the chute. He disappeared down it with an oath, and Merry leapt in after him. Bear almost tossed Pete in and followed after quickly. Leonard went next, and Stride ushered Fred in after him. Fred gave me a terrified look, which I tried, and failed to answer with a convincing smile. Then he too disappeared down the shaft.

Stride grabbed me next, and I barely had time to be scared, before I shot down the slide. I landed hard in a pair of huge, muscular arms, and opened my eyes just in time to see Bear holding me, before he tossed me to Leonard, who bundled me into the back of a waiting truck, where my three friends were huddled against the wall. I looked back and saw Stride land slightly more gracefully than I had. All eight of us looked expectantly at the slide, waiting for Faldang to arrive.

He never did.

Only a fraction of a second after Stride landed, there was a tremendous _BOOM! _Instinctively, I dived to the floor, covering my ears, and closing my eyes. Bits of warehouse rained all around, acrid smoke filled the air, choking me, and making my tightly closed eyes run with stinging tears.

A huge shockwave rolled over us, rocking the truck, and knocking the air from my lungs. I coughed, spluttered, and squinted out of the truck. Vaguely, through the smoke and dust, I saw Stride, Bear, Gerald, and Leonard crawl in beside me. The warehouse was a fiery, smoking mass of twisted steel and iron. There was no way Faldang, or Stonewall and thug number two could have survived that, standing directly over the explosion.

Someone slammed the doors shut, and we were left in the dim, flickering light of a naked bulb that swung and over out heads as the truck pulled away from the mass of flaming rubble.

The only sounds were the rattle of the wheels, the thrum of the engine, and my dry, tearless, sobs, as we were driven to safety, or maybe just more danger.

**Dear Santa,**

**I have been very, very, very good this year. Here is my Christmas list.**

**That red Jag I asked the genie about**

**Aragorn 3**

**Reviews**

**As always, thank you to my wonderful reviewers, Merlyn2, AshleySciFigirl, and Jeremy **


	12. Love Me and Despair

**A/N: Let's see, what to sat about this chapter…. Well, first, we now get Galadriel in, and her whole speech from 'The Mirror of Galadriel' happens to be a favorite of mine, so I tried to ruin it as little as possible. Second, do you have any idea how hard it is to figure out a way to modernize a mirror that sees the future, or a ring that only a person with another certain ring can see? (okay, so I cheated on that one a bit) hopefully I did an okay job… **

** Anyways, as a Christmas present (or Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa, or Solstice ect.) Sam has kindly given me two journal entries to update with.**

**Enjoy! And Merry/Happy/Joyful Christmas/Hanukkah… oh, screw this…**

**Insert Holiday Greeting of Your Choice Here!**

**Disclaimer:**

**Smeagol: Writer does not own anything! Merry Christmasssss!**

**Gollum: Humbugssss! **

**Smeagol: Christmasess a humbug? Gollum doessn't mean it surely!**

**Gollum: I doesss! Whatsss Crissstmasss Preciousss? Nothing! Nothing but a time for buying thingsesss without moneyssess, oh yessss! What reasonsss does the readerssesss have to be merry? Or Smeagol? Smeagol isss poor enough, now that Preciousss has been stolen!**

**Smeagol: I ssstill likessss Christmassss! And I say Manwe Bless it!**

**Gollum: Bah! And I sssaysss every nassssty, ssssneaky fool of a Took who goesess around with Merry Christmasssss on his lipssess should be boiled in hissss own pudding, and buried with a ssstake of holly through hisss heart! Yesss precioussss!**

**Smeagol: Go away Gollum! **

**Merry Christmasssss!**

**Gollum: Bah! Humbug!**

**Smeagol: And Manwe Bless us, Every One!**

_History will be kind to me for I intend to write it._

_ -Winston Churchill_

**Love Me and Despair**

Sam's Journal, Entry Nine

Stride had unofficially assumed command now that Faldang was gone, and as soon as the truck driver dropped us off on a quiet street in Quebec, he started off, hustling us along as if our lives depended on it, which they very well might have. Instead of heading straight for the airport as I had expected we would, he was taking us to something called La Lorain.

When Pete had asked what exactly La Lorain was, we were told that it was a society of artists, mathematicians, inventors, philosophers, environmentalists, and so on, who came from around the world to the society's headquarters, here in Canada, to think, invent, debate, discuss, etcetera, etcetera. Bear had called it a 'think tank'.

Gerald had protested going, but Leonard argued that we had no idea if airports up here were being watched, and that his contacts inside La Lorain would be able help us through any trouble we might encounter on that front.

Gerald had grumblingly backed down, unwilling to admit that Leonard might be right, but unable to deny his logic, and thus it was agreed to go with Leonard's plan.

As we walked through the cobbled streets, I occasionally thought I caught a glimpse of an oddly slim, dark figure, darting through the shadows, as if afraid of the sunlight, but each time he flickered into sight, he was gone just as quickly, fading away like a trick of the light.

It occurred to me that I should probably mention him to Stride, but to be perfectly honest, I was tired of fighting random dark figures, and as long as this one wasn't bothering us, I decided to go by the old live and let live policy.

We had traveled only a few blocks through the bright, cheerful streets, lined with colorful cafes and expensive looking boutiques, when, as we passed in front of a small Parisian bistro, I heard the far too familiar sound of a gun being cocked, and an almost inaudible "Don't move."

Every one of us froze in our tracks, looking slowly around in an attempt to spot the aggressor. We found them immediately, with their high-end European clothes, not-a-strand-out-of-place hair, and, for the women, professional level make up, they blended perfectly with the rich tourists and business people around us, perfectly that is, but for the ever so slightly visible firearms that were inconspicuously tucked into jackets and waistbands, or barely hidden inside designer suede boots.

There were about a dozen of them surrounding us casually, so that the innocent passerby would hardly have noticed a thing out of place. One of them approached Stride, his perfect smile everything that was welcoming and fake.

He held out his hand to Stride, and the two shook coldly. When the man pulled away, I could see the crisp white corner of the note he had slipped into Stride's hand, then he and the others faded away as smoothly as they had appeared, losing themselves in the swirl of the crowds.

Stride opened the note, and a mixture of satisfaction and fear crossed his face. Then he turned to us gravely, and held it out.

"Well," he said quietly. "It appears we have no choice but to go to La Lorain now."

As I drew closer, I could see the words spelled out in delicate, slender script across the page.

_The Lady will see you at the Chateau Frontenac in the Green Dining Hall at eight-o-clock this evening. _

_Be There_

_ LL_

_P.S. Make sure the German Rat is on his best behavior._

"Yes." Nodded Leonard, looking up at the grand spires and roofs of the palace-like chateau perched at the top of the hill overlooking the Lake Champlain. "It does look that way, doesn't it."

Gerald just growled.

* * *

Apparently, when 'The Lady' sends a message, you take it seriously, because Stride, Leonard, and Bear made darn sure that we were at the Green Dining hall at exactly eight pm.

The hostess didn't blink at our tattered, grimy appearance, or even ask if we had a reservation, but immediately brought us to a large, oval shaped table at the far end of the room, where five people already sat, looking silently imposing, and impossibly tall, and beautiful.

At the head-if an oval shaped table can have a head that is- sat a woman who was probably about thirty, with long blonde hair that cascaded down her back, a warm, but detached smile, and a simple, elegant white dress with matching white satin gloves. To her right sat a stone-faced man, who looked young enough, but had uncanny silver hair, as though he had perhaps been born with grey hair, and was going blonde with age. On the woman's other side was the same man who had given Stride the note earlier that day, and beside him, a man who could have been a supermodel, with his chestnut-colored hair, angelic features, and confident, self-satisfied smile. The last was a dark haired young man, perhaps a few inches shorter than the others, who looked both the youngest, and the kindest of the lot, smiling a bit self-consciously as if realizing how formidable the others looked, and not really wanting to take part in it.

The woman, who I deemed to be 'The Lady', gestured for us to sit, and we did so, my own legs practically collapsing under me with exhaustion. Food was already in front of us, and suddenly acutely aware of the fact that I hadn't eaten since before we had gone to JFK airport, I started in on it immediately, although I noticed out of the corner of my eye that our hosts, except for the nice, dark haired one, barely touched their food.

Stride and Leonard also ignored their plates, concentrating their full attention on The Lady.

I listened to their talk with half my mind, concentrating the rest of it on my food, as The Lady opened the conversation with a light, musical voice, not bothering with formalities or introductions.

"Where is Faldang?" She asked softly. "I was told he was with you."

"And I must speak to him." Added the silver haired man, his voice as expressionless as his face.

Leonard closed his eyes sadly, unwilling to speak.

"He was caught in an explosion." Stride's attempt to keep emotion from his tone was foiled as his voice broke on the word 'explosion'.

The Lady's gaze fell, and I saw a single tear glisten in the corner of he eye.

"I am… sorry to hear it." She said finally. "Very sorry indeed. We may miss his assistance greatly in the time ahead. But," she looked up, and the tear was gone. "I must know what I can do to assist you. Ron Del contacted me only a few hours ago to tell me of your journey, and to urge me to help you in whatever way I can."

Stride nodded. "Thank you, Lady. We only need assistance in traveling over to Europe, the airport in New York was being watched, and we cannot risk being caught by agents of either Sebastian, or Sarn, as I'm sure you can understand."

"Of course." She turned to the man who had brought the note, "Hale, you will arrange it?"

"Yes Lady, but… even for the Criminal?" he shot a disgusted look at Gerald.

Her smile hardened. "Even for Herr Gerald. He is our guest, Hale, you will oblige me by remembering that."

Hale grimaced, but bowed his head obediently.

Gerald, whom I couldn't help but notice had been staring quite fixedly at The Lady, blushed an amusing shade of cherry red, and looked down at his plate, as though it was the most fascinating thing he had ever set eyes on.

I stifled a giggle, and felt The Lady's eyes turn to me. Cautiously, I met them with my own gaze, and immediately felt the same, uneasy feeling that looking into Faldang's eyes gave me, as though The Lady was drilling straight to my innermost thoughts and secrets with a single glance.

I blushed an even deeper shade of crimson than Gerald, and tore my eyes away from hers. My gaze landed on the dark haired man, who appeared to be laughing silently. I scowled at him, but with no real malice, and his shoulders only shook harder, his eyes dancing with suppressed mirth. I felt my scowl fade away, replaced with a small smile, which he returned with a brilliantly white grin.

I felt Fred elbow me in the side, and when I turned to tell him off, he just winked at me, then returned his attention to his plate.

I frowned at the back of his head, and refocused of The Lady and Stride, who had continued their conversation.

"It may take a while for us to arrange passage." The Lady was saying. "In the meantime, I would be honored if you would stay here as guests of La Lorain."

"Thank you, Lady." Stride murmured.

Pete and Merry yawned in unison, and The Lady smiled.

"And now, I think, it is time for us to adjourn our meeting, and for you to rest. Ryan, would you show our younger guests to their rooms? Oliver, would you guide the elder guests?"

"Yes Lady." Chorused the nice one, and the supermodel. The nice one, Ryan, grinned, and gestured for Pete, Merry, Fred, and me to follow him, and took off with a cheerful stride, leading us through a maze of opulent corridors and grand staircases before stopping at one of the doors, and throwing it open with a flourish.

"Yours rooms, my lady, my lords." He said, then laughed. "Sorry," he muttered with an apologetic smile, "I'm new to La Lorain, and somehow I just can't seem to get the whole unshakeable dignity thing down." He shrugged. "Suppose I'll have to work on it. Anyway, those four doors lead to the bedrooms, and that one over there is the balcony. Breakfast is any time before twelve back in the Green Dining Hall. Just order anything, and don't worry about the bill, the waiters have their orders concerning The Lady's guests."

"Cool! Look at this!" I heard Pete's voice from one of the bedrooms, and turned to he him bouncing up and down on the fluffy mattress.

I groaned inwardly, and turned back to apologize to Ryan, but he had already disappeared. Somewhere in the hall outside, I heard a chuckle, but then that was gone too.

Slowly, I made my way to one of the bedrooms, and from there, I went immediately to the adjacent bathroom, complete with, to my delight, a hot tub. I showered off, then climbed into the warm, bubbling water, and slowly felt myself relax. The stress, and shock of the day melted away, and slowly, the grief of Faldang's death began to truly sink in.

I had no energy left in me to cry, so instead, I did the only thing I could think of. I climbed out of the hot tub, crawled into the one pair of pajamas I had packed, and settled down with this notebook to write.

* * *

Sam's Journal, Entry Ten

The writing helped a bit, but I could tell, even before I finally flicked off the light, that I would get no sleep that night.

Quietly, I crept out of my room and in the dark found my way across to the door that led to the balcony. It was already partly open, which I found odd, until I saw Fred already leaning on the balcony railing, staring up at the glimmering stars above.

I was about to leave him to his own thoughts, but he heard the floor creak as I stepped back, and his gaze lowered, focusing on me.

"You couldn't sleep either?" He asked softly.

"No." I shook my head. "Were you thinking about him too?" We both knew I meant Faldang, but it was still hard to say his name aloud.

He nodded. "I just can't help thinking maybe if we'd been a bit faster… or smarter… or… I don't know. It just doesn't seem… right."

I understood. It was somehow inconceivable that Faldang of all people could have been killed so quickly, so easily.

I silently joined him at the railing, and leaning my head back and staring up just as he had a moment ago. The stars seemed very bright tonight, and it occurred to me that I had never been in a city before this where the pollution didn't nearly obliterate them.

I wondered what was going on at home right now, how dad was reacting to my going missing, if any of the kids at school were wondering what had happened to us. Actually, the entire town was probably wondering. Orwell was not a place where something like four disappearing kids would go unnoticed.

Fred's sharp intake of breath jerked me away from thoughts of home, and my head snapped around, my eyes searching for whatever was attacking us.

Instead, I found myself looking at The Lady. She had appeared in the doorway silently, still dressed in her dinner clothes, looking as beautiful and majestic as ever.

"Come." It was not a question, but not quite a command either.

Fred and I glanced at each other, and he shrugged very slightly. I gave him an _Are you sure?_ look, and he responded with a _What could go wrong?_ smile. In my opinion, he should know by now exactly what could go wrong, but I could tell he had made his mind up, and admittedly, although The Lady was somewhat intimidating, she certainly didn't seem evil, and I could see no mal intent in her face.

I gave a small inward sigh at the potential stupidity of this, but followed Fred and The Lady, as she led us out of our rooms, and though another impossible scramble of corridors and staircases, always heading up. After what seemed like about three miles of hallways, and a few hundred flights of stairs, she stopped in front of an old engraved copper door, the metal green with age, except for the handle which had been kept a bright reddish pinkish orange from the thousands of hands that had inadvertently polished it as they opened and closed the door over the decades.

As she swung the door inwards, a soft light flooded into the hall, dancing silver like sunlight on water. When I entered the room, I saw that the light was in fact starlight, pouring in through a glass ceiling, and reflecting off the smooth, mirror covered walls. Or at least I though it was mirror at first, until on closer inspection, I saw that it was actually brightly polished silver leaf that covered every inch of the perfectly circular walls.

I realized that my mouth was gaping open, and snapped it shut, focusing once more on The Lady. She smiled at us, and glided forward towards a large, round table, also silver, that stood in the immediate center of the room, pulling aside the black veil that lay over it. Fred and I drew closer as well, curious, but waiting for her to speak.

She gestured for us to look at the table's surface, but when I did, it made nothing clearer. The entire thing was like some sort of computer screen, covered with tiny, unlabeled thumbnails of colorful pictures, so small it was impossible to make them out.

I looked up at her, confused.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I don't understand." I said, unable to stay quiet any longer.

Her smile warmed the tiniest bit. "This," she said, her voice still eerily musical, like a thousand quiet chimes and harps "Is my own personal project for La Lorain. It is an odd device, and one that can be both helpful, and treacherous." She paused for a moment, and tapped one of the little pictures, which grew larger for a moment, than shrank again. "It is a computer, a vast, complex thing, with very limited abilities, but in a way, it will tell you the future."

"The future?" I raised my eyebrows skeptically. "Ma'am, no offence, but…"

Her eyes crinkled around the edges. "No, this is not some paltry parlor trick. By imputing every bit of information I know about an event, this device will calculate the likely outcome. As I say, it can be imprecise, and is quite prone to mistakes, but I have put in everything I know about the Ring, and the events that surround it. If you like, you may both see some of what I have found." She turned to me, her eyes once again boring into my mine. "Samantha, will you accept my offer?"

I swallowed. If there was one thing I had learned from stories, it was that it was never a good thing for the hero to find out his destiny. Now though, I realized why the hero also could never resist the offer of knowledge about the future. The temptation of the possibility of being able to guard against surprises was too much for me, and so, hoping that the old saying was true, and that forewarned really was forearmed, I nodded.

"Yes Ma'am."

"Very well then, come here."

Slowly, I made my way to where she stood, and looked down at the table. She reached out with one gloved hand, and tapped twice on one of the squares.

The square grew, and the picture inside it began to move. First, I saw tall, barren cliff. Huddled at the bottom against the stones were two shivering figures, who I instinctively knew were Fred and me.

The Lady tapped another square, and the image was replaced by another picture of a cliff, only this time Fred and I were climbing it. Wind whipped my hair, and tore at our clothes. Our fingers were white with cold, and worn so raw that there were streaks of blood left on the rocks where we had found handholds.

The Lady reached out again, and this time I was shown a picture of my house. Soldiers in dark uniforms where hammering at the door, and finally, growing impatient, simply tore it down, and poured through the jagged opening, reappearing a moment later, dragging dad along. My father's brown hair was streaked with grey, tears cut through the grime on his worn, prematurely lined face, and his tattered clothing hung of a frame that looked as though it belonged to a corpse. I gasped, a sob wrenching itself from my throat, my nails digging painfully into the palms of my clenched hands.

She reached out once more, tapping a fourth square. This time, I was shown my hometown, Orwell, but it looked nothing like the place I had grown up in. Gone were the old Victorian farmhouses, the rickety country store, the whitewashed church, and the little used bookstore that I had spent so many afternoons in.

Instead, the buildings were now brick, and concrete. The dirt roads were paved, and the river was impeded in its course by a monstrous grey dam that was the basis for a towering power plant that spewed smoke and steam into the air. Trees had been cut down for miles around, allowing the concrete disease of buildings a place to spread.

I felt sick. This couldn't be the future. Orwell was an old podunk town in the middle of absolutely nowhere! It was a place where nothing ever had, or ever would happen! How could that fall apart so easily? How could a place like that ever become a stinking, smoky, smog-filled center of manufacturing? It was impossible.

Shoving myself away from the table, I stared up at The Lady.

"You said this thing makes mistakes right? You said it was unreliable! That wasn't… that can't…." My words stumbled over each other, clunky, and useless.

"It can make mistakes, but I fear this time it did not. If events remain unaltered, this will be the future for your town." Her eyes cut through me like daggers.

"If they remain unaltered? Then it can be changed? Please Ma'am, what do I have to do to stop it?"

Her smile was small, and sad. "I am afraid I do not have an answer for you. You will have to find your own way." She turned to Fred. "And you?"

He nodded, and took a step forward. "Okay." His voice was hesitant, and his eyes were scared as he looked down at the table. I turned away. Whatever the Lady chose to show him, I had a feeling that it was meant for him alone.

I heard him gasp, and whirled around to see him clutching the Ring, and breathing hard. He faced The Lady looking like a deer in the headlights, lost, and terrified.

"You saw?" his voice was odd, off somehow.

"I did. But do not be afraid. Our defenses against him are far too powerful for him to risk attacking us here yet. And we have much to protect." She turned so that her back was to me, and I could just see that she had tugged off one of her gloves.

"Is that…. Is that one of them?" he asked, awe in his voice.

"This is Mernya, one of the Three. It was entrusted to me long ago."

I knew there was only one thing she could be talking about. The Lady possessed one of the Rings.

Fred looked up at her, and I could see he was coming to some sort of decision. Slowly, he reached up, and pulled the Ring from around his neck, holding it out to her.

"Lady," his voice had grown somehow older, more controlled. "You are kind, and are no doubt much wiser than me. You could carry the Ring, and use it for good. If you ask for it, I'll give it to you." I could hear the plea in his offer. The Ring, with its power and temptation was too much. If The Lady took it, he could be free, and the Ring could be put to use.

If The Lady took it, we could go home.

A satisfied smile crept over her face. "I will not deny that I have pondered for many years what course of action I would take if the Ring were to come to me. And now you would give it freely! Instead of Sarn in his dark tower, you would have a Queen. And I shall not live in darkness, but in beauty as lovely and terrible as time! As fair as sun and snow, as powerful as storm and lightning! As worshipful as the mountain and the sea! All will see my light through their darkness!" Her entire being seemed to have gone darker and yet somehow brighter, her voice growing in both volume and intensity.

And suddenly, all that was gone. She laughed lightly, but shakily, and was herself again.

"No." she stepped away from him. "I cannot take it. The Ring must be destroyed, and Mernya's power will go with it. I will fade unknown into the depths of time, and remain only myself."

With an odd expression on his face, Fred replaced the Ring around his neck.

"And now, I must keep you no longer."

Her smile was infinitely sad as she guided us back to our rooms.

I was scared, more scared than I had been in a long, long while. And that was saying something considering what I'd been through lately. It was impossible for me to get the image of my dad's face, bloody and tearstained, out of my head. I had to stop that from happening, whatever the cost.

In addition though, something had occurred to me, something that had been triggered by The Lady's reaction to Fred's offer. I told myself it was mad. I told myself it was stupid. I told myself it was ridiculous. I told myself it was certifiably insane. I _told _myself a lot of things. Not one of them prevented me from pulling out this notebook, as I told myself I was only doing it to prove to myself how very far off the mark I was.

Then, I opened to my very first entry, and began to read.

**Cyber Christmas Cookies to all reviewers!**

**Tavaril Lasgalen- Gen Hannon mellon nin! **

**Razberri- Thank you! And don't worry, I definitely plan finishing the trilogy. Enjoy the chapter :-)**

**AhleySciFigirl- Thanks again! And thanks for the cookies ;-) they were wonderful *****throws yummy chocolate Christmas cookie in return*******

**Merlyn2- yay! I do believe I have the cleverest readers in the world. You guys seem to be able to pick up on every single one of my little jokes and twists in the naming of things.**

**Jeremy- Here's the chapter, ****hope you like it! A Merry Christmas to you too!**

**Elemarth- Wow, lets see if I can answer all those wonderful reviews! **

**Yes, with any luck I will be doing the entire trilogy, mostly movie-verse, but with some pieces of the books.**

**I think you're the first one to catch the Pendragon thing! Spader is an awesome character**

** Nice idea with the 'Walker' suggestion! I wish I'd thought of that when I named him!**

** Tom was hidden back in chapter three as the** **odd looking fellow in yellow rain boots and a garish blue coat, who starts singing to himself on the bus ride.**

** Why Moscow for Saruman? Well, to be perfectly honest, there is no one reason, other than the fact that I think Moscow is a pretty darn cool city.**

** And yes, Addams and Kat are OCs. **

** No, it isn't really necessary for me to have disclaimers every chapter, but I figure writing them is probably not a bad habit to get into. Plus, I enjoy having an excuse to write Gollum/Smeagol arguments.**

** Gerald was talking to Mafia friends, not German friends, so he was speaking English. Besides which, my German is a bit rusty**

** Yes, you're right, the Mafia is Italian in origin, but it spread to the US in the 1800s, and set up shop in big cities, New York being one of the hot spots, although the Mora and Gremlin clans are completely made up.**

** And you definitely have to see Born of Hope, it was amazing for a Fan Film.**

** Right, I think that's everything **

**Thanks for the reviews! Enjoy the new chapter!**


	13. The World Ahead

**A/N I'm sorry, I know it's been an entire week since I updated, and I won't bore you excuses about the holiday craziness and writer's block, but please forgive me, I'll try to be quicker with the next update. Promise.**

** Happy New Years everyone!**

** Disclaimer: **

**Smeagol: Writer ownsssesss nothing.**

**Gollum: Thatsss right! Author ownsss nothing, so author shouldn't be writing thissss. No she shouldn't precioussss! Gollum, gollum.**

**Smeagol: It'sss only fanficssess it isss, nothing wrong with that!**

**Gollum: Issss too wrong! Author ruinssssesss nice booksesss!**

**Beyond-the-wit-of-man: Gollum, Smeagol, it's one in the morning on New Year's Eve, don't you have a party to be at?**

**Gollum: New Yearsss evesess she sayss Precioussss. Partiesss? No, no Partiessssesss, no one ever invitessss Gollum to partiesss. No one likesss usss Precioussss. Nasssty New Yearsessss. One year closssser to to 2012 we issss preciousss. One year closssser to the end of the worldsssessss!**

**Smeagol: World will not end. Only silly conspiracy theorissstsss think sssso. And New Yearsss issss not nasssty! We likesss New Yearssssss!**

**Gollum: One more year without our precioussss it is! **

**Smeagol: Fireworksesssss! Yay! Good Smeagol will go watch fireworksesss now. Leave author to her work!**

_I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones._

_ -Albert Einstein _

**The World Ahead**

Sam's Journal, Entry Eleven

We stayed at La Lorain about two weeks, healing our injuries and recovering from the loss of Faldang. In all that time, I kept my discovery to myself. The last thing I needed was everyone to think I had gone mad. Then again, maybe I had lost my marbles. It wasn't all that inconceivable.

Snow was built up on the windowsills, and swirling white flakes drifted slowly down from the heavy grey clouds on the morning of our departure. I shivered as I dressed in the new clothes that had been a gift from The Lady: Dark jeans, a fitted navy top, tall leather boots and a charcoal grey trench coat. They weren't entirely my style, not very colorful and with too many labels in French and Italian, but they were comfortable, easy to move in, and of course would be hard to pick out in a crowd or a rocky mountain landscape, whichever you happened to be in on a dangerous quest to destroy an all powerful computer program/ring.

I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, then pulled out my brush and began to work it through my horrible I-just-rolled-out-of-bed hair, staring at my reflection in the huge gilt framed mirror as I did so.

The face that looked back at me was not the same one I remembered from, how long ago was it? A few weeks? A month? More? I could hardly remember how much time had passed since I had first left the safety of Orwell for this new, terrifying world. I tried to figure out what had changed in my appearance. Certainly my general features were the same, but there was something different in the furrow of my brow and the line of my lips. A thin scar marred the skin over my left temple, and another cut across the back of my right hand. It took a moment for me to find the word for how I looked: Older.

I sighed, wondering what I would see the next time I looked in a mirror. How many more scars would I have? How much deeper would the lines on my forehead and the bags beneath my eyes be? How loosely would my clothes hang on me? I would never have called myself exactly fat before, just maybe a bit chunky. Now though, my waist had shrunk several inches, my arms and legs were becoming dangerously close to scrawny, and my cheeks had gone from a child-like plumpness, to sharp and hollowed,

Yanking the brush through the last few tangles of my hair, I began to pull the curls back from my face and force them into something resembling a braid. I had had enough of my hair getting in my eyes during fights.

With a wry grin, I realized that I was actually choosing my hairstyle on the basis of whether it would hamper my fighting ability. Well, maybe not exactly an ability-I was still moderately hopeless in all realms of the world of combat- but nonetheless, I was actually considering whether or not my hair would get in the way during a fight. If only my self from two months ago could see this. She would probably be thrilled.

Shaking my head, I turned away from my reflection and looked around for anything I hadn't yet packed.

Half an hour later, having finished off a croissant and cup of coffee, I was standing with the others in one of the seemingly countless dining rooms of the inn, while The Lady briefed us on the plans for travel. First, we would be flown to Luxembourg, the idea being that in such a small country it would be likely that neither Sarn nor Sebastian Kyler would have many people on the lookout for us there. After a brief fuel stop, the plane would take off again, headed for a small airstrip owned by La Lorain that was situated a ways south of our final destination at Mt. Jishaku.

"I am afraid that from there you must find your own way to the Mountain." The Lady continued, "We have no one who knows that land well enough to guide you, and few that would be willing to attempt such a treacherous journey even if they did."

"Of course Lady. And thank you; you have done more than we could hope for for us as it is." Stride gave a little half-bow that looked a bit ridiculous.

The Lady only smiled one of her small, calm smiles, and beckoned to Ryan and Oliver who were standing behind her holding piles of various packages.

First, she took a small object wrapped in silvery cloth from Ryan, and unwrapped it carefully, handing it gracefully to Stride, and speaking to him in a voice too low for the rest of us to hear. I caught a glimpse of green stone as he slipped it onto his finger, but looked away hurriedly when I saw the glint of a tear in his eye.

Next she took a similarly wrapped package, and handed it to Bear. I looked at it curiously as he unwrapped it to reveal what appeared at first to be a bunch of unidentifiable leather straps, but I soon recognized as one of the gun holders that so many of the La Lorain men and women wore under their jackets to keep their firearms hidden but easily accessible.

She continued down the line, handing each of us a gift, accompanied by a few quiet words. Merry and Pete each got a nice shiny new handgun. Leonard was given a belt of the long, slim throwing knives that I had seen him practicing with in the training rooms hidden under the inn. And, to Pete's great amusement, when Gerald requested a single hair from The Lady's head as a gift, The Lady gave him not one, but three. Personally, I found this rather sweet, but wondered how Gerald was planning on keeping track of three hairs during our trip.

Finally, she arrived at me, and once again I was caught in her unnerving gaze. She reached out with one delicate gloved hand, and I saw that she was holding a small box of beautifully carved curly maple.

Hesitantly, I took it, flipped the clasp, and opened it to reveal… seeds? I looked up at her in confusion, wondering exactly why she was giving me a bunch of seeds, while the others got a veritable armory full of weaponry. Not that a new gun would have been of any particular use in my hands.

She gave me a knowing smile, and stooped gracefully so that I could hear her quiet voice.

"This is another one of my personal projects. I trust you know what genetically modified food is?"

I nodded, not getting it. I knew what GM was. Scientists could use genetic modification to make plants grow bigger, or taste different, or have different types of nutrients or chemicals in them than they normally did, but I had no idea what a bunch of GM seeds were supposed to do to help us on a Ring destroying quest. Unless that is, they could maybe grow into plants that would strangle enemy agents of the dark side or whatever other unfriendly things we might run into.

"These are seeds for several different types of trees, crops, and flowers that have been modified so that they will grow nearly anywhere, and thrive in nearly any sort of environment, driving out pollution and disease as they do so."

Awesome. I loved plants, I really did, but this was going to help us on our quest how exactly?

"Thank you Lady, but, well what do I use them for?" I asked quietly.

She only gave me another knowing smile, and said, "I trust you will know when the time comes, Samantha. Perhaps sooner." Then, without another word, she moved on to Fred.

I stared down at the little box, wondering exactly what use I could ever have for it, except maybe planting a pretty garden if I ever made it home.

** You know that little purple review button really is very pretty…**

** Tavaril Lasgalen: Yup, I figured I'm taking Tolkien's work and using it for my own writing, so why not steal a little from Dickens as well… ;-) And actually, to be perfectly honest, I can't take full credit for the mirror/computer idea, the inspiration came from another author, but I thought it would work well enough.**

**AshleySciFigirl: I wondered if anyone would catch that… yes, Ryan is Rumil and Oliver is Orophin. I needed a few more elves in the picture, and decided that would work as well as any.**

** I agree, a modern LOTR movie would be awesome. Actually, my plan for the future is to be a filmmaker, so maybe…. Although, I can hardly imagine what sort of copyright issues would arise if innocent little fanfilms that aren't making any profit have to be careful about that sort of thing. ;-)**

** Elemarth: Thanks! And yes, odd is certainly one word that could be used to describe this.**

** Merlyn2: I just couldn't resist having Gollum be Scrooge for a bit, I had just seen a stage version of **_**A Christmas Carol,**_** and was reading **_**A Tale of Two Cities**_** at the time, so I sorta had Dickens on my mind at the time. And yes, I decided it was time for someone to start figuring out the fact that they were reliving LOTR, but I don't plan on having Sam's discovery bring much change to the story, especially as in my mind she has only seen the movies, and is not a big LOTR fan, so she won't really be able to control or predict very much.**

** Jeremy: Thanks! Sorry for the late update, I'll try to make up for it. Happy New Years to you too!**


	14. Walk in Empty Lands

**A/N: And here we are! Nearly to the end of book one! (damn, I need to figure out a book two title) Anyways, hope you enjoy the chapter!**

_We can't all be heroes, because someone has to sit on the curb and clap as they go by._

_ -Will Rogers_

**Walk in Empty Lands**

Bear's POV

We leave soon after The Lady gives us her gifts, and I'm glad of it. Our stay's been pleasant enough, but there's something unnatural about The Lady and La Lorain, and I can't say I'll miss it.

The plane is small and sleek, painted the color of the storm clouds above. Good, if anyone tries to tail us, they'll have a hard time of it. On second thought, anyone trying to tail us will probably have more than just their eyes to keep track of us with.

A newspaper skitters over the asphalt in front of me, and I catch a glimpse of the headline.

**407 Terrorist Organizations Claim Credit for New York Bombings**

I shake my head. Our little escapades of late have been earning paper headlines all around the world. Of course, not one of the news articles has come anywhere close to the truth. I did rather like the one that involved a notorious baseball team rivalry and a few worked up fans though; it was really very creative.

We climb into the little plane, and find seats. Pete heads straight up to the cockpit to pepper the pilot with questions, while Merry hunts through the well provisioned mini fridge and Sam tucks herself away to scribble in the little notebook she always seems to have with her.

Gerald's daydreaming, his mind no doubt back at the Chateau Frontenac with The Lady. Leonard and Stride talk quietly, occasionally throwing looks at Fred, who's already asleep in his seat beside Sam. The boy has the Ring clutched tightly in his fist. Such a responsibility can't possibly be good for a kid his age. Why, he can't even drive yet! How can we expect him to carry a weapon of apocalyptic power around his neck all the time? It isn't fair to him. It would be much better for us all if I was to take it to D.C. Yes, that was what needed to happen, we could use it. Even though Sarn wasn't attacking us directly yet, there were still more small battles and crimes both military and political than we could deal with for long, and especially not without letting the problems be known to the general population. And where would we be then? If people knew how precarious our position really was, who's to say they wouldn't up and rebel? Or even join the other side?

No. We need that Ring, and I'm going to get it for us.

I need to convince Fred to give it to me. It shouldn't be that hard. After all, it will be a weight off his shoulders to have someone else carry the Ring.

I sink into my thoughts as the plane moves out over the ocean.

Hours go by with little or no talk, and no change in the scene outside. Grey clouds hang in heavy layers above and below us. The occasional plane is spotted on the horizon, but they are always commercial jets, or shipping planes. Not one enemy aircraft.

That is, until the pilot's loud curse jolts me out of my stupor.

Every one of us is on our feet instantly. Leonard is already clutching a vicious-looking knife in his hand, and I realize I've drawn my gun. Of course, we're on a little plane several thousand feet in the air, so I don't know exactly what I was planning on shooting with it, but as always, the feel of its weight in my hand is comforting.

"What?" I bark, throwing aside the curtain that separates us from the cockpit.

"That." His voice is icy as he points at the little radar display on the dashboard.

There's a little red blip at about five-o-clock that's moving steadily toward us.

"Vell, it might just be another airliner…" Gerald stops speaking abruptly as a second red dot starts blinking at seven-o-clock. I swear in harmony with the pilot this time.

"It's only two. Ve may be able to lose zem…"

As if on cue, a third appears, followed quickly by a fourth.

"How far are we from our destination?" Stride's voice is harsh and urgent.

"Not far. We were supposed to begin our descent in seven minutes, sir."

"Can this thing go any faster?"

"Not safely, sir." The pilot's tone suggests that he knows what's coming next. "We need to be going slow enough for me to land easily, and with this cloud cover, it'll be hard."

"Never mind that, we need all the speed we can get. Do whatever it takes."

The pilot looks resignedly at Stride. "Whatever you say, sir." I can tell that this isn't the first time he's been told to act against his better judgment.

A fifth blip appears on the radar, and the pilot manipulates a toggle switch on the dash. All of us who came to the cockpit to see what was the matter have barely enough time to retreat and strap ourselves into our seats, before the plane veers to the right, and tips downward. I brace myself for the series if dips, jerks, and tilts that I know from past experience is about to come as we attempt to outmaneuver our pursuers, and reach the ground.

As we hurtle down, occasionally swerving one way or another to avoid making ourselves an easy target, I survey the others who are in varying states of shock, fright, and determination. Personally, I can't help but enjoy myself a little. Yes, we might be in danger of crashing or being shot down, or whatever the goal of the five enemy planes, but as always, the adrenaline these situations lend me blocks out the fear, and sends an odd feeling of excitement through me.

The plane dips into an even more extreme angle, and we break through the clouds only a few thousand feet above the ground. As the view becomes clearer, I can see how small the population here must be. Humans have left much of the forested country untouched, with only small cities here and there. This is not the Europe that I have spent years of my life in. No diplomats that I have to talk to. No corrupt government that I have to work with. No one to fear, and no one to manipulate. In fact, if I remember correctly, we are in a country with an army of eight hundred people, and a navy that is nonexistent. Heck, I could take them out blindfolded and with my hands tied behind my back.

We level out a bit, and I see trees rushing up towards us. This airstrip must be concealed incredibly well, as I can still see no sign of it. As we sink lower, I wonder if the pilot has the right coordinates. There is still not even a hint of tarmac, yet still, we plummet down. I pull in a sharp breath as we touch the treetops. Still no airstrip. And then, we are suddenly in the trees. But nothing happens. It is as though they aren't even there, as tough they're a mirage, or a…

"Hologram!" Leonard exclaims, just as I reach the same conclusion.

"A good one too." Stride muses.

There's a jolt as we touch down, and I peer out the window, trying to find a hint of our pursuers in the clouds. And there they are. Two rapidly growing specks have just burst out of the clouds, and I'm sure that the others must be right behind.

"Quick!" Stride throws open the door, and ushers the kids out, Leonard and Gerald close behind. "Where now?" He shouts at the pilot.

"There's a plane at the other end of the tarmac, sir!" The man shouts back. "We weren't supposed to take it, but under the circumstances, I don't think we have time to refuel this one!"

Damn right. Already, I can see seven little dots drifting down towards us. Parachutes, they'll be here within two minutes, probably less.

"How far to the other plane?" I ask.

"A quarter mile, sir."

My mind goes into hyper drive. This could be my chance. It was risky and sloppy, but it just might work. I turn to Stride. "I'll take care of Fred. You get Sam, and send Pete and Merrick with Leonard and Gerald!"

I can see sparks flash in his eyes at my telling him what to do, but he doesn't have time to argue. The parachutes have tripled in number, and the first is a minute and a half away.

"Right. Gerald, get Pete and take him to the other end of the runway, there's a plane there. Leonard, you go with Merry!" He jumps out and, grabs Sam's arm. I see the pilot already several yards into the hologram pines.

Fred and I set off quickly, but when I judge the others to be at a safe distance, I stop, and turn him around to face me. I can see confusion in his eyes, but speak before he can ask me anything.

"Fred, I need you to give the Ring to me. No, no," I shake my head as he opens his mouth indignatly. "Just until we're safe in the air again. They might know you have it. It'll be safer with me." I put on my best reasonable, convincing voice, and lie through my teeth. This is for the greater good I remind myself.

"No, I'm sorry Bear, but it's my burden to carry." Ignorant little kid. Doesn't he see how much easier it will be if I have the Ring?

"You have to, Fred. It's the only way to be sure the Ring will be safe." I am becoming acutely aware of the parachutes only a minute away.

"The Ring'll only be safe when it's destroyed." The little git shakes his head, backing up a few steps. I need that Ring! Whatever it takes to get it, well, that's what I'll have to give.

_Go on. _A little voice in my head sings quietly. _Go on and take it. The boy has no use for it. It should be yours._

"Give it to me." My words come out harsher than I intend them to.

_ Now. Take it now. You need it. _The Voice is so sweet, so soft.

"No." He takes another step back.

_We're running out of time, Bear. _The softness of the voice is sharper now, but that only makes it sweeter.

I growl, and lunge forward. I don't have time for this! Fifty seconds until they land!

His eyes widen in fear, and he turns and runs.

_Come, Bear. Come take us. _

I charge after him, but the hologram trees are thick, and their branches dense. Within moments, he's been completely swallowed up by them. I stop, listening for the sound of pounding feet.

It's at that moment that what I've done sinks in, and my knees buckle.

How could I have? What had possessed me to do such a thing?

I know the answer, but that's not important now. I have to make sure the Ring is destroyed. It's too strong, far, far too strong.

I haul myself to my feet, just in time to hear the crack of a pistol. Time's up. They're here.

**Elemarth-thanks! And, don't worry, I won't tell Gollum. I think he enjoys conspiracy theories, and I wouldn't want to upset him!**

**AshleySciFigirl-the hair thing absolutely was inspired by the dvd extras! You should totally start a cut character and cut scenes fanclub! And I wish I could see the kidnapped PJ fanfic. I'll bet it's awesome. **

**Merlyn2-glad you liked the box of earth bit (-: Sorry, no phial of Galadriel this time. But it will appear, don't worry!**

**Jeremy- All credit for the movie idea goes to AshleySciFigirl **** Hope you're having a good new year!**


	15. One Final Journey

**A/N Yay! A death scene! Okay, maybe I shouldn't be as excited about that, but still, they're kinda fun to write. **

_Die? I should say not my dear fellow. No Barrymore would ever allow such a conventional thing to happen to him! (last words)_

_ -John Barrymore_

**One Final Journey**

Bear's POV

I run in the direction of the plane, eyes and ears straining over the yells and gunshots that now fill the artificial forest. Off to my left, I hear a cry. It's a child's voice. Without hesitation, I change my course and my pounding feet take me in the direction of the voice. There are shots ahead of me, and I wish that these trees could shield me from more than eyes.

As I draw closer, I see two small figures back to back, firing wildly at the men closing in around them. I reach inside my coat and draw my gun, mentally thanking The Lady for her gift of the gun belt. Firing three bullets without to much care about aim draws the men's attention to me. Pete's Face lightens as he sees me, and he shouts something to Merry as he sends a bullet whizzing over the shoulder of one of his attackers. My bullets find their marks in several more men, but it isn't enough. As I turn to fire at another of them, my gun clicks pitifully. I'm out of ammo.

I draw a knife from its sheath at my side. It isn't pretty like Leonard's knives, but it's a weapon, and at the moment that's all I need. I dive through them, slashing and hacking as I go, miraculously not being shot pointblank by their heavy handguns. I make it to the boys, but even with the bit of help they provide with their guns, I know it isn't enough.

No. It has to be enough. We can't be expecting help from the others, for all we know, they're in even worse spots than we are. This makes me wonder what happened to Leonard and Gerald. They were supposed to be taking care of Merry and Petr. No time to think about that now, it's up to me to keep the boys safe now.

Something white-hot slams into my shoulder and buries through to the bone. I don't waste my energy swearing, but instead grab a gun from one of the bodies at my feet, and fire it in the direction that the bullet came from.

I can barely feel the blood that must be streaming from my shoulder as I concentrate on my job. I have to make sure the kids get out of here alive. I have to do whatever I can that might possibly help destroy the Ring. Firing off shot after shot, I manage to take down a good number of our attackers, but it doesn't seem to be having an effect.

A second bullet slams into me, and I feel my knees give out for the second time today. That really is a bad habit; I'll have to work on it. If I live that is, and my prospects aren't looking great. I drag myself upright. The adrenaline pumping through me is keeping the pain away, and instead my shoulder and stomach where I've been hit merely feel numb.

Keeping up my barrage of fire, I know there isn't much time left for me. I can't really register that. I've been close to death before, but this time I know it's coming without a doubt. I can actually feel my life leaving me. _How odd_, I think, _I'm not scared. Should I be scared? _I don't know the answer, as I've never really seriously contemplated dying before. Funny, I probably should have.

A third shot hits me in the chest. If the other two haven't sealed my fate, this one will.

The world slows down as I crumple to the ground, and I know this is it. Our attackers know it too, and they rush past me without a second glance, sweeping up Merry and Pete as they go. The kids fight well, and Pete even manages a nice shot straight through one man's chest, but it's no use.

_Why? _I wonder, _Why do they want Merry and Pete?" _The answer comes to me immediately. _They think they have the Ring. _

I indulge myself in a single curse as I fall backwards, my head hitting the ground.

As I lie there, I realize the gunshots have stopped. I can only hope that this doesn't mean the others are dead. As my pulse slows, the adrenaline fades, and the pain hits with full force. It is beyond anything I have felt before, but maybe this is what I deserve for trying to take the ring from Fred.

Through the pain, I hear footsteps. It takes every ounce of strength left in me to focus my eyes in their direction. Stride steps out from between the trees, followed by Gerald and Leonard.

Stride walks swiftly to my side and kneels next to me. I force my mouth to form the words I need him to hear.

"I…" the pain is almost unbearable, and I can't force enough air into my lungs. "I tried to take the Ring. I'm sorry." And I am. I really truly am. But there's more I need to tell them. "They took… Pete…Merry. They think they have…the…the Ring." My eyes want nothing more than to close, to be done with this unbearable pain. But I can't, not yet. One more thing. "Stride…." My voice is fading fast. "My people…. Your people… save them."

I hear his words as if from a long ways away. "I will, Bear. I will save our people. Be at peace."

As I close my eyes, the pain fades away, and I know the end is near.

Smeal's POV

I know the nasty little boy has my Ring. I almost feel it around my finger right now. So close, so very close. Soon it will be mine again, and after all these years, everything will be set right. He runs towards the plane, and I slip along through the trees beside him. I can see the pilot ahead, already throwing himself into the cockpit. I hate planes, but there's no option. Darting forward, I reach the little flying tin can with just enough time to slide into the luggage compartment before he can catch sight of me. Good thing these idiots kept their bags with them in the plane, otherwise this could be much more complicated.

**Dave- Thanks! Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

**Merlyn2- Thanks (-: I've always loved how Boromir isn't some stupid villain with world domination on his mind, so writing from his point of view was a very nice way for me to get my own little personal thoughts about him out. **

**Elemarth- Good point about it only being meant to be one book. I'd actually managed to forget about that! I will certainly consider that. Thanks!**


	16. Follow if I Can

**A/N Here it is, last chapter of FotR! Enjoy, and good luck to all of you who have midterms this week (-: Now what are you doing on ? shouldn't you be studying?**

_If the boy and girl walk off into the sunset hand-in-hand in the last scene, it adds 10 million to the box office._

_ -George Lucas_

**Follow if I Can**

Sam's Journal, Entry Twelve

It all seemed to happen very quickly. One moment I was running along with Stride, and the next, there were men drifting down all around us like deadly dandelion seeds, armed with guns, their parachutes collapsing in silky white mounds of fabric which billowed about the feet of the figures who stepped from them.

Stride yanked me to the side, and aimed a shot upwards. Half a second later, a dead man hit the ground right where I had been, blood staining his chute. The crimson spread outwards through the fabric, and suddenly I wasn't seeing the dead man anymore. I was seeing Fred, lying on the ground after the dark figure shot him, blood seeping through the white fibers of his t-shirt.

I stumbled, my eyes blurring, feeling bile rising in my throat. Stride lost his grip on my sleeve, and I fell, head spinning, skinning my palms on the asphalt. Rolling to the side, I ducked behind a discarded parachute just before one of the men near us turned. If I'd been a second slower, he would've seen me and shot me for sure.

Stride was already blocked from view by two huge men, and I knew I wasn't going to get to him any time soon. So, instead of running back to him, I took of in the direction we had been headed, squinting through my tears as I cut a zigzagging path through the holographic trees to avoid running into our attackers. Briefly, I wondered how many of them there were. There hadn't been that many planes following us, had there?

Then, the outline of a plane appeared through the trees, and I put on an extra burst of speed as I heard an engine starting up. I was only ten or so yards from it, when the plane lurched forward.

"No!" I gasped as I put every bit of energy I had into my legs. "No, wait!"

I was only five yards now, but the plane moved forward, slowly picking up speed.

"Please! Wait!" The tears were falling faster down my cheeks, and my feet were numb as they slammed against the tarmac.

It was moving away more quickly now. It was ten yards away.

Fifteen.

Twenty.

"No! Please no!"

Thirty.

I tripped over my own shoelace, and plummeted forward. My cheek smashed into the ground, and when I lifted my face, blood was mixed with the tears.

Fifty.

There was nothing I could do! Nothing!

And then, the plane slowed.

I saw someone jump out of it, and run towards me, but my eyes were too blurred and stinging to make out their face. I knew who it was though, and when he said my name as he grabbed my elbow and dragged my to my feet, I was never happier to hear his voice.

"Sam?"

I smiled slowly. _Yes, Fred. About time you realized that you can't go off on adventures without me._

"Sam! Sam, come on!"

_I'm coming. I'm coming._ I took a step.

"Come on! Quick! Please, Sam." He started running, half dragging me along with him. We reached the little plane, and he flung himself through the still-open door, pulling me in after.

The door slammed, jolting me to my senses.

"Fred…"

He grabbed me, hugging me tightly, and whatever I'd been about to tell him disappeared as I hugged him back, letting everything I wanted to say be expressed in the embrace.

We stayed like that for a long time, until the plane was well into the clouds.

Finally, I made a decision. I might be crazy, but Fred was my best friend, and I had to say something to someone.

"Fred?" I pulled away, so that I could see his face.

"Do you remember that movie we saw once, the first Lord of the Rings?"

"Mmhmmm?" He looked confused, like he had no idea what that had to do with anything. "What about it?"

"Do you remember any of it?"

"Not really. It was the one with the guy who swordfights really well, and the pretty elf dude, right?"

"Something like that." To be honest, I didn't remember much more than he did. Actually, I only remembered two scenes clearly: the one with Elf queen who turns all dark and scary, and the one where the dementor-guy stabs Frodo.

"Fred…" I really was insane. Why did I even mention this in the first place? "Do you… have you noticed any similarities between that movie and… and what we've been going through lately?"

"I don't think so. Have you?"

"A few."

He shrugged. "They're both adventures, even if ours is real, there are still bound to be some similarities between it and an adventure movie, aren't there?"

He was right. I could probably find hundreds of things from hundreds of books that have happened in my life. This was no doubt one of those times.

"Yeah, I guess so." I gave a little laugh.

He smiled. "Now come look at this." He gestured out the window, and I looked over to see a brilliantly orange sun sinking into the clouds, and washing them in warm color. "We're riding off into the sunset, just like in any story that ends happily ever after."

"But ours can't end yet." I pointed out. "We still have to get rid of the Ring."

For a moment, I thought I saw his eyes darken, but when he looked back at me, they were lively again. "Then let's just take it as a good omen, shall we?"

And now, here I am again, writing in this little notebook. It's beginning to look a bit tired, but I think it will hold up for a while yet. I can only hope it does, because I have feeling there's going to be a lot more for me to write in it.

I should sleep, but I can't. What will happen now that we don't have a leader anymore? How are we supposed to get all the way to Mt. Jishaku by ourselves? I'm terrified, but somehow not surprised to be without any adult besides the pilot. It's almost like this is how it's supposed to be, just Fred, and me.

I hear Faldang's words from what seems like a lifetime or two ago: _Take care of Fred, Sam. Don't you lose him. _It's almost like he knew that there would be a time when there was no one else to do it. I answer him quietly, renewing my promise.

"_No sir. I don't intend to."_

**Jeremy: thanks as always! Enjoy!**

**Merlyn2: It definitely will be difficult dong these next books, but what's life without a little challenge?**

**Elemarth: Gollum will most likely have a second name, I still have to decide on it though.**

**Daisymall13: Thank you! (-: hope you like the new chapter!**


	17. We Must Away

**A/N: I know, I know, I'm a terrible person for not updating, but I've been in on vacation with no access to the outside world for ages, so I truly honestly couldn't. Anyways, here's the first part of the second volume. Enjoy!**

**Part Two**

_The fascination of shooting as a sport depends almost wholly on whether you are at the right or wrong end of the gun._

_ -P.G. Wodehouse_

**We Must Away**

Pete's POV

I felt the train turn again, and tumbled across the cold, grimy floor, unable to catch myself with my duct taped hands before my back smashed into the bare metal wall. My spine protested painfully, and I wondered at the fact that it hadn't shattered yet. I'd any concept of time long ago, and hadn't even thought to try to keep track of our direction at all.

Merry whimpered through the tape over his mouth as he was rolled into me, knocking the air from my lungs. _Think on the bright side, Pete. _I thought to myself._ At least we're not dead yet. _Comforting.

Ouch! We slowed abruptly, and I slid forward, managing to twist just enough that I hit my shoulder instead of my head against the wall. Then I thought, _We slowed! Please, please let us be about to stop! I promise I'll do my homework on time for a whole week. Two weeks! I swear it! _A stop would mean escape. Or at least, that's what I told myself. I tried not to think about what else it could mean, namely: interrogation, torture, death, being told there would be no lunch etc.

Stride's POV

The conversation was short. Fred and Samantha had left, pilot, plane, Ring, and all. Pete and Merry had been taken by our attackers, and disappeared into the trees. Bear was dead. We had a clear choice. Go after Fred and Sam, or save Pete and Merry. The only problem with the first option was announced by a bang, and a cloud of acrid smoke from where we had left the first plane. A quick search of the immediate area showed that no other planes were present, but revealed a car parked at the edge of the tarmac, right beside a small, ill kempt dirt road that wound between the trees. Tire tracks and a fading engine roar told us where our young friends were. I wondered briefly why this vehicle had been left intact, but that wasn't really the issue at the moment. Gerald was already in the driver's seat, gesturing for us to get in. Leonard held back though.

"Bear." He said through tight lips. "We need to take care of him first."

"And the boys?" Gerald asked harshly.

I shut my eyes for a half second, allowing my thoughts to order themselves somewhat.

"We can pick up their trail easily enough if that's what we decide to do." I said quietly.

"What else can we do?" asked Leonard with a barely sustained calm in his voice. "The plane is gone. And we cannot be sure that we can find Fred and Samantha again, even if a new one were to present itself."

He was right; as little as I might like it. "We take care of Bear first." I agreed.

Gerald scowled as though he wasn't sure I was right about being able to find the boys again, but he didn't object.

After wrapping Bear in one of the white parachutes that our enemies had left behind, we cremated him. None of us felt much like saying a few words.

When the fire died down a little, we returned to the truck that had been left behind. Gerald hot-wired it with and expert hand, and a few tools that he produced from the inside of his jacket. Leonard looked on with subtle disapproval, as though wondering how many times Gerald might have used this same skill for less noble causes.

Within a minute the engine turned over, and Gerald stepped on it, swerving and bumping down the little road like a drunken man. The vehicle carrying our friends had left tracks in the dust, but we didn't need them for direction; it would have taken a tank to make it through the woods on either side of us, and that was one thing that I was pretty sure our attackers hadn't had.

Pilot's POV

Something is wrong. It isn't something quantifiable, just a little tickle at the back of my mind. I check all the instruments again, but there's nothing happening there. The lights are green, the radar is clear of other aircraft, and everything is ticking beeping, and blipping just as it should. The kids are talking quietly, poor things. They don't seem to have any idea what they're doing, or what comes next. I can't give them much help either. My orders were simple and clear. Fly them to Japan. Leave them. Come back to base. I've already deviated from the instructions by only taking these two, along with the wrong plane; anything beyond this is out of the question.

As we soar over a high mountain range, somewhere by the eastern border of Germany, I feel a thrum in the engine, a pulse that wasn't there before. My shoulders tense, and I check the dials and lights spread out in front of me. Everything's fine. Then I look at the fuel gauge. It's pointing straight right, a full tank. Too full. We should have used up enough to move the needle left a little by now.

I slam the heel of my palm against the gauge, and feel my heart sink as whatever was keeping it stuck before is eliminated, and the needle drifts left… and left… and left… and touches the far side of the dial. I take one brief moment to curse myself, realizing that I never checked that tank on the plane before taking off. Not that I was really able to at the time. Then, the plane lurches, and we begin to lose altitude.

Someone screams as I fight for control of the tumbling aircraft. It's not a fight I'm going to win, and I know it. Still, something keeps me from giving up. Maybe it's years of working for the Lady, or maybe it's pure adrenaline, but I struggle with toggles and button, doing everything that could conceivably pull us out of our hurtling fall, and allow me to minimize the damage we'll sustain in the crash. I can see our distance from the ground decreasing almost faster than I can process.

I almost don't see the trees rise to meet us. Then, we're crashing though branches and skidding across a forest floor. I see a wall of rock loom up in front of me, and then there's nothing.

**HisPrincessHope- Glad you like it (-:**

**AshleySciFigirl- yes, Europe. And trains are definitely going to be part of the picture (-:**

**Merlyn2- thanks (-: And yes, Sam seeing similarities between her adventure and Tolkien's work isn't going to help them out.**

**Jeremy- Thanks!**

**Elemarth- I doubt it'll be Sam/Frodo. I've always thought of them as being only friends, and I think I'll probably keep it that way.**

**Tavaril Lasgalen- thank you (-: enjoy the chapter!**

**Daisymall13- I rather like Gale… hmmm… I might just use it, thank you!**


	18. From the West has Come No Word

"_What to do if you find yourself stuck in a crack in the ground underneath a giant boulder you can't move, with no hope of rescue. Consider how lucky you are that life has been good to you so far. Alternatively, if life hasn't been good to you so far, which given your current circumstances seems more likely, consider how lucky you are that it won't be troubling you much longer."_

_ -Douglass Adams_

**From the West has Come No Word**

I hardly had time to register that we crashing. One minute we had been fine, flying along and trying to figure out what to do now, and the next minute we were hurtling towards the ground. Somewhere on the way down, something hit me on the head, and the next thing I remember is waking up spluttering among bits of smoking plane, with cold water running over my face and in frigid little streams down my neck and chest. Fred was crouched beside me with a worried look in his eyes, and an empty water bottle in his hand.

"Sam! Sam, are you alright?"

I groaned, coughed, and pushed myself into a sitting position. "Was the water really necessary?" I croaked.

"Sorry." He nearly smiled, "But I didn't know how else to bring you round."

I rubbed my forehead gently, feeling a lump the size of a small apricot where I'd been hit. "And you?" I asked.

"I'm fine."

I scanned him quickly to confirm his words, and saw nothing worse that a few scratches. "We'd better clean those out." I said, pointing to an especially deep one on his arm. "Have you got any more of that bottled water lying around?"

He nodded. "There's a bunch of them scattered around, but first we should find our bags and stuff.

I agreed, and we searched the area around the plane, finding both our bags miraculously intact, along with some bottled water and snacks that had been stored on the plane.

"Maybe there'll be a first aid kit in the co…" My words stumbled to a stop. The cockpit! I'd forgotten all about the pilot! He must be trapped in there, unconscious or… No. He couldn't be dead! How were we supposed to find our way out of here without him? Did the plane even have a black box? Did _anyone _know we were here? I saw the blood drain from Fred's face as he watched me, and knew he must have seen what I was thinking. Without another word, we both took off at a run towards the crumpled front of the wreck.

Peering in through the hole where the door had been, I didn't have to look any farther to see that our fears were confirmed. The front seat where the pilot had been was lost in a jumble of glass and metal. The only sign that anyone had been there was a tiny trickle of blood that made it's slow way down a crushed metal panel.

I turned away, holding back the dizziness that threatened to wash over me. Fred's face was twisted oddly when I looked back at him, and I knew we were thinking the same thing. _What now?_

*_*_*

Neither of us could figure out what to do that night, so we agreed to just make camp under a little overhang in the cliff and hope that La Lorien had some way of knowing when one of their planes crashed. Of course, even if they did, we still couldn't know if they'd come find us or not. Still, we decided our best bet was to wait until morning, and if no one came for us soon, we would figure out what to do next.

We had enough bottled water for a few days, and water purifying tablets that the Lady had given us to use after that was gone. Along with the tablets, we'd each been given enough food for maybe two weeks. If you counted in the snacks from the plane, we might be able to last three weeks on our own. Maybe.

I thanked whatever sort of luck had kept us from loosing our bags, as we sorted out our supplies. The Lady had also included thin sleeping bags that would preserve body heat, matches, some extra clothes, and climbing equipment, this last bit meant for our journey through the mountains in Japan. Lucky for me, I'd been on the small rock climbing team that had been started a few years back by my older cousin, a college dropout who decided what he really wanted to do was climb. Never the best on the team, I was a little worried about climbing without anyone but Fred around, but I hoped that maybe the weight that I'd lost on our journey would help a bit. Then again, it wasn't as if it had been replaced with muscle, just the hollow, sickly look of someone who hasn't eaten enough, and has worried far too much.

Fred wasn't looking to well either, and I couldn't help notice how very often his hand would stray in the direction of the Ring. I wondered what wearing it must be like as I sat there in the darkness, hoping that the rustlings I heard in the trees were only caused by the wind. So much power in one little object, I couldn't even start to imagine what the temptation of owning a thing like that would be.

A shadow darker than the rest moved off to my right, and I jumped, squinting nervously in that direction. For a moment, I thought I saw a vaguely human shape, but it must have been my eyes playing tricks on me, because a moment later it was gone.

My hand went to the hard rectangle of the little box that the Lady had given me, and wondered once again what it could be used for. Maybe if we got stuck here, I could plant a garden for food. Then again, we'd probably starve before anything could grow. Nonetheless, it was somehow comforting to feel the little box in my pocket. A reminder that perhaps there was someone who could find us here. I went to sleep, hoping to wake up in the morning to the sound of a La Lorien rescue squad coming for us.

Pete's POV

We are bundled off the train, still bound, and carried into one of the warehouses that are grouped around what appears to be a platform for unloading and loading freight trains. There is no one around, but forklifts, crates, and immobile trains are everywhere. Off to the other side of the tracks is a huge a forest, with trees as thick around as an easy chair. There aren't hardly any forests like that back home. An old, rusted metal sign on above the door to the warehouse has something that looks like Russian written on it. Cool! Russia! Spies! Weird onion-shaped towers! Gregori Rasputin! Then I wonder why we'd be being taken to Russia. Are these people KGB? Does the KGB still exist? Do they torture people? Are they going to feed us stale bread and pull out fingernails out? Wait, maybe the fingernail pulling is Chinese, like dripping water on peoples foreheads. That doesn't sound too bad actually, It's been so hot on the train that I could use some water.

"Put 'em down 'ere!" Barks one of our captors. He's a big guy, with a big scar on his face, a big voice, and a big ego. He's been the one ordering all the other creeps around. We're dropped unceremoniously in one corner, and I get a good look around. Big doors cover every side of the building, most of them open, allowing in the pigeons that are perched in the rafters, leaving feathers and droppings everywhere, and squawking indignantly at our intrusion. The open doors also provide what could be our escape route, if no one comes to rescue us that is.

**Sorry, I want to get this posted, as I'm about to be dragged away form the computer, so no shout outs today. However, a huge thank you to all who reviewed. You guys are the best!**


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